


How a Hooker Changed My Life

by tamagin



Category: Naruto
Genre: I swear, M/M, Slow Build, i promise this story has a driving plot, we're not going to crash and fall off a cliff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagin/pseuds/tamagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ON HIATUS “That’s a lot of clients. You must be one hell of a counselor,” Kakashi jibes as he pours scorching water in each of their ramen cups. </p><p>Naruto scratches at his cheek. “Ehe, nah. I’m just awesome in bed.” </p><p>(Or where Naruto is a sex worker in Tokyo and pretty content in life until he meets duck-butt Sasuke Uchiha and the domino pieces just fall where they may.</p><p>His brother is really hot, though.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If you are against prostitution or promiscuity in any shape or form, please do yourself a favor and exit this page. These two subjects are very controversial, and though I have nothing against people who voluntarily work in the sex industry or people who have active sex lives, I realize that some people are uncomfortable with said concepts, and there's nothing wrong with that (though there is definitely something wrong if you judge people based on these criteria. We shouldn't be judging people at all, really). 
> 
> I promise that there will be smut, but I DO have a plot driving this story ^-^ It's been planned and partially written out in my secret diary. It's not just mindless smut, I swear! 
> 
> Without further adoo-doo, let's turd up 8D

Naruto has to go grocery shopping. No, he _really_ needs to. He’s down to only one cup of ramen in the pantry, and possibly spoiled milk in the fridge, because he’s not checked the expiration date, but he figures if he hasn’t died of food poisoning yet it’s still good enough for consumption.

He hears Kyuubi, the orange tabby cat he _sort of_ owns, scratching at his door, probably wondering why his food bowl isn’t filled to the brim like it usually would be.  Again, Naruto berates himself for not having bought food, for him or the cat. He’ll go grocery shopping today, there’s no doubt about it. The trouble is, he hasn’t gotten out of bed since two in the morning, and if the clock above his door reads right, it is currently one in the afternoon.

Naruto painstakingly groans into his pillow, momentarily drowning out the insistent scratching at his door, though it does no mercy on the pounding headache he’s currently experiencing. He will never drink with Kiba again. Or play strip poker with him, for that matter. Being drunk might’ve cushioned his loss, but it’s still irritating. Besides, he scored some fantastic foreplay.

Kyuubi begins to whine at the door, and Naruto can’t take the pulsing headache on top of persistent scratching anymore, so he haphazardly yanks the fluffy blanket he got for Christmas off, and rubs at his cakey eyes. He catches a whiff of himself and blanches at the smell of booze, so he makes his way across the room and to the door.

Kyuubi stares up at him with absolute annoyance, but he ignores it in favor of a scalding hot shower. He’ll feed Kyuubi later when he’s bought the food. Besides, Kyuubi will probably just go ravaging in the dumpsters after sneaking out through the balcony again.

After having soaped his hair twice and having scrubbed the grime on almost every available space of his body, turning his skin a lobster red, he makes haste to dress in comfortably warm clothes, preferably his neon-orange parka with the fur hood and a pair of jeggings that hug his ass real tight. Winter, by far, is his least favorite season of the year. It freezes the pipes, kills his plants, gives him colds, and makes him a shivering mass of jello. He would rather do without all of those inconveniences.

He checks himself in the mirror hung by the entrance door for the third time, tousling his blond hair to and fro, knowing full well that it does nothing to complement his baby face, before he succumbs to the frigid cold outside, and hoofs it down the stairwell right beside his apartment. He’s always hated how far up his apartment is because of all the running he has to do every time he wants to make contact with civilization, but now he’s grateful because it can warm him up before proceeding to enter even harsher weather.

He makes his usual rounds by dropping by Ichiraku Ramen to get, well, ramen for breakfast and making idle conversation with Teuchi, the owner, and his daughter Ayame. The stand is busier than usual because he woke up late, so he doesn’t get to speak to them much, but he still considers it a highlight of his day.

After that, he mindlessly just wanders through Tokyo, passing by that store he can only hope to buy from, a manga store he frequents on weekends, a chocolatier, and his favorite pastry shop. He doesn’t go in to buy those bunny mooncakes that he loves, and instead goes into 7-Eleven to buy the essentials. He buys enough food to last him about two weeks, all of which are comprised mostly of ramen with each having unique flavors to spice it up a bit and some energy drinks. He doesn’t often eat at home since he just freeloads off of everyone all the time. But since no one has complained yet or seems to be bothered by it, he doesn’t make any plans of stopping any time soon.

Naruto almost forgets to buy Kyuubi his cat food, but remembers when he passes by the aisle. Inari, the cashier, looked about ready to tell him about it again, so that had also been an indicator. He pays upfront, and lugs the groceries with a wave behind him to Inari, the automatic doors separating and playing an electronic jingle.

As Naruto makes his way through the city, he stops to wonder whether he’ll have enough time to go back home and drop off the groceries. He tugs at the sleeve of his parka to check the time to see that it’s half past five. He curses, adjusting the plastic bags in his hands before dashing through snow-laden sidewalks, nearly tripping on his way and diving headfirst onto a fire hydrant swathed in snow.

He makes his way through the throngs of nine-to-five workers, thankful that they shield him from the onslaught of wintry wind, as he heads towards the higher-class area of Tokyo. Naruto has always despised going there on foot because of all the crosswalks he has to endure through, but fortunately for him, it’s not a busy day, at least on the streets.

He almost whoops in celebration after breaking through the suffocating crowds, making out the purely too expensive apartment complex smack-dab in the middle of two prominent skyscrapers. Naruto runs up the path to where the fire escape is and climbs the flight of stairs as swiftly but nimbly as possible, though he still hears the clang of the metal as his combat boots make contact. When he reaches the sixth floor, he peers into the window of the apartment, and pats himself on the back.

Kakashi, a regular customer of his, is already sitting in front of his computer having a conversation with his editor, Yamato, probably about another perverted manga he’s planning to sell. Naruto rolls his eyes, putting the cat food on the floor, and then slowly pulling the window up so that he can step through and into the- god bless- warm and cozy apartment.   

Naruto quickly takes his grocery bags and hauls them into the kitchen, taking off articles of clothing as he goes and dropping them to the floor as inconspicuously as possible. He can hear Kakashi’s voice seeping through the walls as he reins his laughter in, making his way through a hall and into Kakashi’s bedroom.

It’s as empty and devoid of human contact as it usually is. Well, at least when he’s not around. Kakashi is always up poring over his manga in his studio along with some helpers, barely getting an inch of sleep, and even when he does get any it’s always on something that’s relatively close to him, commonly the couch in the living room or in his study on the computer.

As Naruto settles on the bed, naked and slightly shivering, he hears a lull in the conversation, probably because Kakashi is drawing something for Yamato as a sample of what he wants to do. He smirks, finding it a perfect opportunity.

 *

“I was thinking something like this.”

Kakashi holds up the piece of tissue paper he’s just drawn on, a girl with exaggerated breasts sketched on it. Yamato grimaces behind the webcam.

“Mmm… They look almost _too_ big,” Yamato observes, leaning back into his chair.

Kakashi nods and takes it into consideration, scavenging for another piece of paraphernalia he can draw on. He really needs to get some paper. Also, some pencils. Pen is such a pain to draw with.

He sees something orange in the corner of his eye, but neglects to acknowledge it, turning back towards the computer once he’s found some sticky notes.

As he’s drawing another girl, Yamato clears his throat. “You said you wanted this to be more shounen than ero?”

Did he say that? He doesn’t remember, though the premise of the story will probably call for more of a shounen feel than just boobs and screen tone. He shrugs and thinks to hell with it, scratching at his chin. “Eeeh, I was thinking of branching out.”

“Why the sudden change?” Yamato asks with a tiny lift of an eyebrow.

“Well, the story...“

“Oi, Kakashi! I can’t pose forever, y’know!”

Kakashi jolts a bit in his wheelie chair, but not enough for Yamato to notice, though he’s sure Yamato heard the obnoxious voice coming specifically from his bedroom either way. “Ka-ka-shi sen-sei! Are we going full-frontal this time, or did you want me to bend over? I thought you’d be finished with your Skyping by now.”  

 _Naruto,_ he thinks almost endearingly, but the embarrassment wins out. He chuckles nervously, humiliation sweeping from his neck up to his ears and Kakashi’s _so_ glad that he has a mask over the lower portion of his face, or else he’d have probably killed himself at how embarrassed he is by now. Yamato shifts from side to side in his chair, looking for the source, as if getting close to his webcam will afford him a better view of Kakashi’s living room.

“Not to pry, but do you have… a lover home right now, sensei?” he asks almost apprehensively.

“Uuh, something like that.” Kakashi rubs the back of his neck, hoping to dear God that Naruto doesn't yell across the apartment again. “Maybe we should cut this call short.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and Yamato knows it. Or at least Kakashi hopes he knows it.

Yamato sighs, almost in amusement, and nods understandingly. “All right. At five tomorrow, then?”

“Five it is.”

“Good night then, Kakashi-sensei.” Yamato smiles at him, almost too sweet.

Kakashi gives him a mock salute, quickly exiting out of the conversation, and swiveling out of his chair with relief before Yamato really catches on. _Naruto is so dead,_ is his first thought as he stalks down the hall towards the kitchen, catching a glimpse of clothes askew on the floor and some plastic bags carefully placed on the stove. Down the hall, the door to his room is slightly ajar, the light from his lampshade creating an almost romantic glow and casting shadows over the walls.

“Took you long enough,” Naruto quips, lying on his stomach and reading an old Playboy magazine, and very much naked.

“You did that on purpose.” It wasn’t a question. Kakashi has known Naruto long enough to know that Naruto loves to play pranks, particularly on him, though he doesn’t exactly know why since his reactions to them are synonymous to that of a brick wall. Maybe it’s _because_ it never works on him. Besides, Naruto’s a stubborn guy _. He’ll get a reaction if he wants a reaction_ , that kind of thinking, Kakashi ventures to guess.

But that’s not what’s important right now.

“Prove it,” Naruto taunts, and if Kakashi had looked away at that moment, he’s sure Naruto would be sticking his tongue out.

 _Well, you certainly do know how my schedule works, like my Skype calls at 5:30 p.m. on Thursdays and Fridays respectively_ , Kakashi thinks but doesn’t say out loud. Instead, he smiles underneath the mask, and saunters toward his closet. He hears Naruto shuffle on the bed in curiosity, as he rifles through a box, and throws some of the clothes he doesn’t like behind him.

When he has what he wants, all frills and ruffles and black and white, he holds it up for Naruto to see. Naruto immediately cringes, and scoots away to the edge of the bed where he clings to the bed’s frame. “Not the maid outfit again.”

“Oh, come off it, Naruto. It’s all in good fun, ne?” He approaches the bed with a little more than a lecherous gait, and a bit of mischievous intent, the bed sinking like quick sand under his knees as he crawls to Naruto.  

“This is just payback, isn’t it, you pervert?” Naruto narrows his eyes, but Kakashi isn’t intimidated.

Kakashi waves a hand in dismissal. “No, no, that’s nonsense. I would never!” Now he just sounds sickeningly saccharine in a come-here-little-boy-I-have-candy-in-the-van way. Though it deters him none.

“You won’t pay me extra for this, either.” Naruto knows him too well.

“When have I ever paid less than you deserved?” Kakashi is close enough to touch him now, but he still waits for Naruto’s approval. He may be an ecchi manga artist, but he’s no sex offender. “Besides, it’ll really help in providing me visuals for Keiko.”

Keiko is a busty blond girl he may or may not have designed off of Naruto in his current ongoing manga.

“I have no boobs and I have a dick. I repeat- I have a _dick._ _How_ could you possibly use me for your ero-manga?”

“Semantics.” Kakashi shrugs his shoulder noncommittally, drawing closer to Naruto’s sun-tanned skin. He always wonders whether it’s natural, and if it’s not, what he does to get it that perfectly… “glowy.” “Naruto,” he almost breathes out, reaching up to fondle Naruto’s bottom lip. He shivers in response, holding fast to Kakashi’s waist. “Wear the maid outfit,” Kakashi subtly coaxes, pressing the dress to Naruto’s chest.

Naruto looks like he’s considering the idea, but Kakashi knows he’s sold. Those ocean-blue eyes look too cheeky and filled with mirth. “Fine,” he concedes, ridding Kakashi of the maid outfit, and pulling it taut against his naked chest. His hand reaches up to pull at Kakashi’s mask, slipping away to reveal his pale nose. “But no mask.”

Kakashi’s too eager to even disagree.

 *

Naruto feels ridiculous in this French maid outfit, though he is resigned to it already. He’s worn this along with many other outfits that include but are not limited to Sailor Moon, Panty and Stocking, a nurse, and a playboy bunny of all things. Really, he’s so far beyond the point of no return that it’s pointless to even complain, but it doesn’t mean he’ll make it any easier for Kakashi. If anything, it makes the payoff that much sweeter, though he’d never admit that out loud.

Back then, he’d immediately veto any and all prospects of cross dressing, only budging if Kakashi mentioned upping his pay. But now, he’s a little more lenient and a little more flexible, in more ways than one, and most of the time, he rarely bats an eyelash if he’s paid without the extra cost. Perks of being a freelance worker, he guesses. It’s bliss not having to count the numbers and setting a specific quota for every man he has to deal with. He's always been better at literature, anyway.

Kakashi begins stretching beside him, his chest rising and lifting Naruto’s head with it. He immediately shivers and yanks the covers over his nude body. “Cold?” Naruto asks, though he already knows the answer.

Kakashi smirks. Naruto can’t help how breathless he feels at being able to see this man’s face. It bothered him in the past when Kakashi always hid his face with that mask, but now Kakashi’s opened up to him, and he takes it off now and then, though that’s far and in between. He was told that it was because Kakashi didn’t want his eccentric fans to make him out in a crowd, but wearing a mask is guaranteed to garner even more attention, Naruto thinks. In his opinion, it’s counterproductive.

Besides, he knows it’s a cover story. Naruto doesn’t pry, though. He’s just glad that Kakashi’s comfortable enough to even show his face. It’s just a shame that he doesn’t show it more often. He’s so handsome, after all.

Naruto doesn’t realize he’s caressing the side of Kakashi’s face where the scar runs a jagged line down his left eye until Kakashi stares at him directly. “Have I ever told you how cool your left eye is?”

Kakashi chuckles. “Only about a hundred times.”

“Then this will be the 101st.” Naruto shifts to get closer, peering into Kakashi’s eye. “Why are only some parts brown?”

“The doctors tell me that I have sectoral heterochromia,” Kakashi explains. He breaks into a smile at Naruto’s indignant pout. “I can’t really explain it to the letter, but it just means that my eye won’t completely be blue. Some iron got deposited into my eye during the car crash, and voila.”

Naruto hums. He kind of gets it, but at the same time he doesn’t. Naruto is courteous enough not to ask about further details on the car crash. He doesn’t want to get into a position where he has to say sorry and feel bad that he wasn’t there to stop it. It’s just the stupid hero inside him talking.

Kakashi looks like he’s about to ask about the scars on his cheeks, but moves on to something else. Either that or he doesn’t want to get into a long discussion of sour back stories. Naruto doesn’t blame him.

After cleaning themselves up, and setting the room back into place, Naruto and Kakashi sit at the dining table, Naruto in one of Kakashi’s robes, and Kakashi clad in much the same, plus the mask. They’d boiled some water for the ramen, so now they’re just waiting.

Naruto yawns into his palm.

“Gonna stay over?” Kakashi asks, sipping on some coffee. Naruto thinks it’s a horrible idea to be drinking coffee at midnight, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Huh?”

“Are you going to spend the night?”

“Yeah. It’s cold as balls out there.” He emphasizes this by wrapping the robe even tighter around his body. Kakashi nods in agreement. “You won’t care if your editor sees me?”

“Eh, he’s not one to pry. If he sees you, he’ll just say hi.”

“So he’s not a prude?”

“If he were, he wouldn’t be working with me, right?” Naruto can’t disagree with that. “How about you? You won’t be late for your other client?”

“Meh, it’s Suit and Tie. He won’t care as long as it’s eight on the dot.”

“Is that the guy you counsel?”

Naruto chuckles, imagining the austere yet amiable Itachi in a counselor’s office. “I don’t counsel him. I just listen.”

“Interesting stories, then?”

“Well, if you’re into how the IT screws up 24/7 or how the new assistant talks about his little brother all the time, then yeah, I’d say it’s pretty interesting,” Naruto informs him, settling back into his chair and crossing his arms to trap some semblance of warmth. He shivers again and rubs at his arms. “Can you turn the heat up?”

Kakashi gets up to tweak the thermostat, and Naruto sighs in relief. “Besides him, what’s your schedule?”

“Ready to see me so soon? How flattering,” Naruto teases, clutching at his heart in mock adoration.

Even with the mask on, Naruto can tell Kakashi’s amused. “Not exactly, but whatever floats your boat. My weekend’s booked with proof-readings. Also, Christmas is coming up, and I have to make a special edition.”

“I gotcha. Well, after Suit and Tie, I got Guyliner, I think. Possibly Dog-Breath again, then Pineapple and Prodigy. It’s all up in the air.”

“That’s a lot of clients. You must be one hell of a counselor,” Kakashi jibes as he pours scorching water in each of their ramen cups.

Naruto scratches at his cheek. “Ehe, nah. I’m just awesome in bed.”

“Well, you certainly _are_ flexible.” Kakashi settles back at the table, placing their steaming cups down.

“Hey, that’s not _all_ that’s good about me, right?” Naruto points accusatory chopsticks at Kakashi, who’s currently lifting the bottom half of his mask and stuffing some of the noodles in his mouth. Naruto doesn’t understand why Kakashi doesn’t just take the whole thing off, but he surmises that it has to do with issues of insecurity or something.

“You _do_ make a very sexy Sailor Moon,” Kakashi says around a mouthful. Naruto gives a derisive snort.

“You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“So you dress up for other clients, then?”

Naruto stirs his ramen around with the chopsticks. “Psh, no. No one else has weird fetishes like you.”

Kakashi just shrugs. He _does_ have weird fetishes. Naruto has only seen the tip of the iceberg, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Finishing the ramen and leaving dishes to do in the morning, Kakashi and Naruto trudge back to his room at approximately one o’clock in the morning. He’s not going to be a happy camper later when he has to wake up, but that’s nothing particularly new and nothing a little coffee won’t fix.

“So which side do you want today?” Kakashi asks.

Naruto tumbles on the right side of bed, making himself comfortable. “This one.” Kakashi doesn’t protest and joins him, turning the lamp off. Naruto immediately attaches to his side and wraps a leg around his waist. “Better?”

“Better,” Kakashi agrees.

It really _is_ too cold.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea whether Kakashi's eye back-story is credible or not. Blame it on Wikipedia. Tamagin out~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's all pretend that Kisame is not a weird shark-human hybrid thing, okay? I made another terrible pun in the chapter. Congratz if you find it!~

“Look at that flagrant bullshit.”

Itachi snaps his rapt attention to Kisame, his CAO. Currently, he’s shaking his head dismissively and clicking his tongue at every statistic Hidan, vice president of finance, spills out of his mouth in an agonizingly monotonous execution. From a neutral standpoint, Itachi _can_ agree that Hidan’s power point is crammed to the top with irrelevant information, most likely there for the sole purpose of filling the empty space, but that’s no reason to shut him down… not completely, anyway.

Kisame, on the other hand, despises idle talk, and that is specifically what Hidan has to show. “Those stats are a year old,” Kisame mumbles to Itachi, the slight lilt in his voice a tell-tale sign that he’s trying to rein his laughter in. “Last I checked, Hong Kong’s profit margins have dropped. They won’t be too inclined towards signing a partnership.”

Well, Itachi can’t argue with that. While Kisame’s attitude towards his colleagues far warrants proper professional conduct, his financial analyses are never too far from the mark. If anything, he feels Kisame might’ve been a loan shark in a past life. He’s too good with numbers, financial or otherwise, but he’s not ethical enough to keep his fists down if he feels the situation requires it.

When Hidan concludes his presentation, he slicks his hair back and takes a seat beside Kakuzu, the company’s CFO. Kakuzu shifts in his chair to give Itachi a long, hard look. “What’s your verdict?” he asks almost threateningly. Itachi remains unblinking. While he may be a pacifist at heart, Itachi has a boiling dislike of Kakuzu, just for the sole reason that he irritates the living daylights out of him. 

Kisame snickers beside him. He may or may not be privy to a few complaints about it here and there.

“There can only be conjecture. I’m led to believe that some figures are non-sequitur to the initiative,” Itachi says as firmly as he can. Kakuzu and Hidan both go rigid in their seats, but Itachi doesn’t give them time to protest. “I may have been unclear in what I was asking for, and no one is entitled to that responsibility but me alone. I won’t ask for corrections, just accuracy. I will rectify whatever else has been misinterpreted.”

“You want this by tomorrow morning, I presume?” Kakuzu asks with venom on his tongue.

“Will that be a problem?” Itachi returns the venom ten-fold in kind. Kisame doesn’t snicker this time.

Kakuzu remains tight-lipped, and Itachi sighs internally. He isn’t up for any petty arguments and he hopes it shows on his face.

“This meeting is adjourned.”

The room is instantly filled with hushed gossip as his subordinates make a beeline to the door and file out of the room. Kisame doesn’t stay for long because he has to harp on IT for their lousy performance, even though that’s clearly Zetsu’s job, since he’s the director of the level. He figures it’s because Kisame just likes interrupting the work atmosphere, but Itachi doesn’t really care because Kisame does his job well.

Eventually he gets tired of sitting at an empty table, so he makes his way past level nine and to level ten to get to his office. He sees his assistant, Karin, and she’s back to playing Tetris and talking to someone on her headset that is obviously not one of their clients in her cubicle. She’s squealing about something, or rather _someone,_ to the receiver on the line. Itachi looks to his office, and as expected, Sasuke is there to visit.  

When Karin’s eyes land on him, she immediately ceases her squawking and rights her desk. In doing so, the cord to her headset gets pulled out of the speakers, which subsequently causes her coffee to spill on some papers, then her dress, and then the carpet. Itachi pretends not to notice and enters his office. He closes the door gently behind him as Karin scurries to clean her mess.

Sasuke is there sitting on one of his chairs with a leg crossed over the other, the one poised on the floor bouncing erratically. He stops when he sees Itachi and smiles. “Hey. How was the meeting?”

“Aside from what you already know?” Itachi answers as he settles on his chair and pulls it closer to his desk. He takes note of a shot glass on the coffee table with residue of whiskey licking up the edges. “How was school?”

“Don’t call it that. You make it sound like I’m still in middle school,” Sasuke quips.

“You will always be a middle-schooler in my eyes, little brother.” Sasuke immediately frowns, rolling his eyes. “That’s why I would appreciate it if you didn’t drink my whiskey.”  

Sasuke scoffs. “Like _you_ drink it,” he drones sarcastically.

“My clients do,” Itachi rebukes, rebooting his laptop. “But I’m certain you didn’t just come here to mooch off my whiskey.” He gives his little brother a knowing look, but Sasuke doesn’t look away.

“I hate it when you do that.”

Itachi cocks his head innocently. “Do what?”

“Don’t act coy. You always give me the choice to open the discussion, but in a way that I can’t refuse.”

Itachi just smiles. He’s always known that his brother would figure it out someday. “The choice is still yours.”

“Hn,” Sasuke grunts, leaning his chin on an open palm. For a time, Itachi truly believes his brother won’t tell him, but then he shifts around on his seat so that he looks more approachable, more open, and that’s enough for Itachi to wait patiently. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not here to talk about myself. I wanted to talk about you.”

Itachi tries to choose his words carefully. “What about me, Sasuke?” He adds the name to butter him up a bit. Sasuke doesn’t make any indication that it affects him, good or bad.

“I get it. Being CEO is the end-all, be-all in our family. I’ll be right up there with you in a few years.” Sasuke waves his hand in the air noncommittally. “Be a CEO. Be good at it. But don’t be one of those people who marry their jobs.”

Itachi doesn’t let Sasuke know how touched he feels. His little brother is _worried_ about him. He wants to taunt and tease him about it, but that would most definitely make him leave, so Itachi refrains from doing so. “Would that bother you? Me, being married to my job?”

“Who wouldn’t be? You don’t know how to socialize. You have no friends.” Itachi doesn’t tell him how that kind of hurt. “Next thing you know, Father’s gonna want another heir and it’ll have to be on me because you have no wife.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Itachi tries to assure him.

“I know. It’s what makes me anxious.”

Itachi opens his mouth to ask why, but Sasuke has already closed himself off, and he has never imposed on his brother, and he never will. “I understand.” He knows he’s treading on thin ice, so he attempts to pick and choose his words in as careful a manner as possible. “What brought this on?” He hopes it doesn’t sound accusing.

Sasuke sighs, crossing his arms. “You haven’t been coming home.” Itachi doesn’t hope for much more than that. But he gets it. He gets it, but he wishes he didn’t. He knows what Sasuke is referring to.

He’s been seeing someone- a friend of sorts, though it originates from something bizarre and ends at bizarre. He wants to defend himself and say that he _does_ have a friend, and that he _does_ socialize, more than what’s morally accepted, but he’s sure that _paying_ someone to be your friend borders on desperate and contradicts everything he’s founded himself on.

“I’m fine, Sasuke." Again, Itachi hopes that that is enough. He tries not to look Sasuke directly in the eye. But Sasuke’s nodding. He’s buying it… for now.

Sasuke grunts as he stands to his feet and dusts his denim jeans. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“You’re going to leave before you tell me anything about your university?”

“Nothing new. Same old. You?”

Itachi doesn’t think about how he’ll meet a prostitute later, about how he’ll possibly fuck said prostitute and talk endlessly with him, or about how he actually feels _elated_ at the prospect of meeting said prostitute. He says none of that.   

“Same old.”

It’s the truth, anyway.

*

Naruto wakes up to an empty bed and an empty stomach. Luckily, Kakashi had been nice enough to cook some omurice for him before leaving to go to the post office to send his manuscripts off. With the money Kakashi left behind, he’s able to afford a cab, which is just as well because the weather’s even harsher today than it was yesterday.

With clattering teeth and a might mustered up from a deep desire to get in his apartment, he’s able to dash up the stairwell, insert the key, and turn it to enter the warm embrace of his home. Kyuubi still hasn’t returned, but Naruto pours cat food in the bowl anyway. Really, even if the cat’s a stray, he’s grown quite attached to it, which isn’t good because the apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, and Tsunade, the supervisor, would have him stringed up by the balls if she ever found out, but he shrugs it off. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

When he checks the clock again, he has four hours before has to meet with Itachi, and that’s more than enough time to shower and change into a new pair of clothes. He decides to go see Gaara and his siblings at their tattoo shop afterwards, but not before watching some TV and chilling with some ramen on his lap.

He really burnt his tongue last night, so he tries to be careful with it. In the end, he still burns it because he’s so eager to eat again. After a few re-runs of One Piece, Gintama, and Bleach, Naruto gets tired of watching the same thing, so he leaves the apartment to search for entertainment elsewhere.

The tattoo shop ends up not even being a block away, and Naruto finds it a golden opportunity to sweat off some calories. By the time he makes it there, he’s panting and wheezing more than he should, which bruises his ego a bit, but he chalks it up to the weather. A bell jingles above his head as he enters the shop.

“Welcome!” Kankuro, Gaara’s brother, greets him. At the sight of Naruto, he instantly brightens. “Hey, Naruto. What’s up?” Naruto waves nonchalantly. He notices how Kankuro has changed the color of his face paint from red to purple.

“Hey. Digging the new color.”

“Figured I could try something new. Looking for Gaara?”

Naruto smiles sheepishly. “You got me.” Kankuro just winks at him, and cocks his head behind him. At the far back, he sees Gaara, with his red hair and obnoxious eye liner, talking to a stranger. He raises an eyebrow at how many piercings this guy has, running all the way down his ears and his nose, with _\- dare he say-_ adorable snake bites. He can even see some piercings on his arms underneath the sleeves, but he could be wrong.

“Is that a customer?” He can’t imagine what else this guy could possibly want pierced next.

“Nah. It’s our newbie. Gaara’s showing him the ropes,” Temari, the oldest of the three siblings, informs as she wraps an arm around Kankuro’s shoulders.  “Liking the way he looks?” she asks with a little more than a hint of a tease.

Naruto finds Gaara’s siblings a _godsend_. They’re the only two people he can be openly free about his sexuality with, outside of his regular customers. It’s just a shame that he has to hide the fact that he and Gaara fuck sometimes, and that Gaara’s more than willing to pay him for it. He always feels like he stabs them in the back, but the feeling quickly subsides when Temari prods him with a painted fingernail.

“Earth to Naruto?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty hot,” he agrees. He hopes that wasn’t too loud. “Well, I don’t wanna obstruct business, so I’ll see ya guys around.”

“You don’t have to leave.” Gaara, seemingly finished with the tour around their quaint tattoo shop, has come up behind Kankuro with the rookie in tow. “Business is slow today.”

Kankuro hums in agreement. “This damn weather is pushing everyone away,” he hisses, staring with disdain out the window. His comment, unfortunately, spurs conversation about talk of winter, arousing an argument between him and his sister and leaving Gaara and Naruto to watch in boredom, too used to their antics. The only saving grace for them all is when a customer shows up and asks for a septum piercing. Temari volunteers to take him, and all of them disperse to do their own thing.

Gaara then pulls Naruto and the newbie to the side so that they can make full introductions without any disruptions. “Naruto, this is Pein.” Gaara gestures to him. “I’m sure my sister has already filled you in on him.”

“A bit, yeah.” Naruto scratches the back of his neck out of nervousness. The guy’s hotter up close, sure, but he’s so stoic. More stoic than Gaara had been when they first met, and it makes him feel weird, like he’s about to piss himself. He extends a hand out anyway. “Nice to meet you, Pein.” For a second, he thinks that Pein won’t do it, but then he reaches out and takes Naruto’s hand, and he can’t _believe_ how warm his hand is.

“It’s a pleasure,” he says, almost timidly, but his baritone says otherwise, and it shoots a shiver down Naruto’s spine like electricity on a metal xylophone. He doesn’t realize he’s still holding his hand until Pein clears his throat.

Naruto chuckles anxiously in hopes of dispelling the mood. “I was just thinking that your contact lenses looked cool.” He hadn’t really been thinking that, but now that he’s closer, he can see how vividly purple his eyes are.

“They’re not contacts, but thank you.”

Naruto is completely taken aback by this information, but he doesn’t say sorry. Pein didn’t sound offended, anyway. “You have some really cool eyes, then.”

Pein just smiles at him. Naruto thinks he might’ve just made a new friend.

*

He’s late. No, Itachi is definitely not keeping track of the time. He just hears the ticking of the clock, and that’s how he knows, much to his chagrin. This isn’t the first time Naruto has been late, though he _would_ admit that it still irritates him a bit. He’s never taken this long before and he’s usually punctual, so it leads him to wonder.

But it’s nearly been an hour, and all Itachi has done since coming into the hotel room is loosen his tie and make himself comfortable on one of the recliners. Still, he waits patiently, and what is Itachi if not a tolerant man? Naruto will come bursting through that door like a dreadful avalanche, seeking refuge in the open space. Itachi has no doubt about it.

Naruto’s the type of man who sweeps anyone into the vortex of his tornado, the type to toss a man into the eye of his storm to make him taste hell only to taste heaven again when his tempest has subsided. He’s the type that forces a man to wonder, to stand in the middle of a raging hurricane, to search for lightning underneath the torrent of clouds, and be okay with getting charred. He’s confusion and commotion and exhilaration and passion rolled into one body, and Itachi _likes_ getting tossed by the wind and left gasping for air.  

So, he waits.

Just as he’d expected, Naruto yanks the door open in a flurry of gestures and apologies, and he slams the door closed, and no, Itachi didn’t flinch at how loud it had been. Naruto crosses the expanse of the room and immediately finds purchase on Itachi’s lap, pushing the hair that frames his face aside so that he can stare into Itachi’s eyes and give a final apology.

Itachi just smiles. “I’m not mad.” He’s being honest.

“Yeah, but you’re irritated. I can see it on your face.” Naruto points between his eyebrows, and he quickly tries to mend the crease that is most likely there. “I’m sorry, okay? I hung out with some friends, and it ended up being more fun than I’d thought.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” Itachi says that with a gratefulness he didn’t think he possessed. Naruto hears it in his voice too and instantly begins to relax against him. He wraps his arms around Itachi’s shoulders.

“So, work. How was it?”

Itachi ponders on what to say. There’s not much he _could_ say, frankly. “We had a meeting about different locations of the world that would be willing to build our enterprise on their soils. The statistics were wrong. Therefore, we have to dig through the new records to find businesses willing to sign a collaboration project with us.” Naruto hums, though Itachi knows he doesn’t really understand. He’s fine with that, though. This is how they usually are.

“What else?” Naruto presses, genuinely curious. Itachi feels contented to know that someone wants to listen to him, even if it benefits neither party. “How about that new assistant of yours? How’s she doing?”    

“She’s a hard worker, but that’s only when I’m looking.” Naruto twirls a strand of his hair between his fingertips. “She’s also gotten better control on talking her colleagues’ ears off about my brother.”

“That’s good. So she’s gossiping less?”

“Not exactly.”

Naruto cocks his head. “Hm? Then what?”

“Apparently, she is now talking about me.”

At this, Naruto bursts into laughter, patting the arm of the recliner. “What does she say?” he asks enthusiastically.

“From what I’ve heard around the water cooler, I am very ‘cool and mature’ and my target market is women in their forties.” Naruto snickers, burying his nose against Itachi’s neck. Itachi fights the urge to laugh at how ticklish it feels.

“But you’re not old!” Naruto protests.

Itachi feels flattered, but he honestly doesn’t feel offended. “Maybe I look the part.”

“Oh, blow me. You’re hot, Itachi. You have it going on, so no worries!” Naruto beams at him. Itachi can see that he sincerely means what he says, and it makes him grin.

“Thank you.” Itachi settles himself more in the recliner, pulling Naruto by the waist to close the space between them. “Now tell me about this party you went to.”

Naruto brightens and proceeds to tell him that there was no party, just a get-together of him and his friends and a newcomer. The newcomer had seemed shy and quiet, but he was actually very polite and very attentive, and Naruto doesn’t know why, but he finds it very charming. He talks about how slow the day had been going, so his friends ended up closing shop earlier than usual. They decided to go to a sushi bar nearby for dinner, and the newcomer came along, though they had to convince him. The newcomer had to go home earlier than the rest of them though because he had an urgent call.

Naruto goes on and on and talks about how they snowball fight outside the shop, and how he and Temari ended up going against her two brothers. They built a forte and everything, and it was actually the first time Naruto had ever played with snow, despite living in Japan all his life. Eventually, he begins to find fewer things to talk about that are remotely interesting, and Naruto begins to get cold, so he yanks the blanket from the bed and climbs back onto Itachi’s lap, wrapping the blanket around the both of them.

They don’t speak for a while. As Itachi feels the first signs of drowsiness, Naruto takes his hand and guides it to his stomach. He caresses it, and Naruto bites his lip and whimpers a bit. “What do you think of a tattoo?” he suddenly asks.

Itachi stares at him blankly. He hadn’t expected that. “It certainly wouldn't be advisable for someone in my profession to get one, but I'm presuming you're asking what I think if you got one."

Naruto nods. “I’ve been thinking of getting one.”

“What do you plan to have?” Itachi instantly fills with thoughts of Naruto having kanji written over his sleek skin, or of watercolor tattoos marking the expanse of Naruto’s back.

“A seal.”

“What kind?”

Naruto smiles sheepishly at him. “It was a seal I found on a letter my mom left behind. I just thought it looked cool.”

Itachi nods. He doesn’t ask what it symbolizes for him, because he gets the feeling that Naruto doesn’t quite know it himself. So he tries to veer the conversation towards something else. “Where would you like it to be?”

Naruto’s smile turns from sheepish to mischievous instantly. He presses Itachi’s hand against him even tighter as he shifts around on his lap. “I was thinking my stomach,” he says, lifting his shirt a bit. Itachi can see the trail of blond hair extending underneath Naruto’s jeans. “Or maybe here.” Naruto guides Itachi’s hand to his sternum underneath the shirt. He can feel his steady heartbeat, how Naruto releases a puff of air from his nose. “Or just say to hell with it, and put it on my ass.” He tugs both of Itachi’s wrists and brings them around to grip him firmly. “Mm… Let’s do it tonight.” He gives an experimental grind and Itachi feels a shiver shoot throughout his body. He narrows his eyes and stares at Naruto’s lips.

“That’s no question.”

Naruto chews on his bottom lip. “I wasn’t going to give you much of a choice.”

“I realize that. And if I said no?” Itachi is already standing and migrating to the king bed. He feels excitement wrenching at his gut, and everything is beginning to feel hypersensitive. Naruto bites his ear, and almost snarls into it.

“I would’ve made you watch me,” he whispers haughtily.

Itachi smirks. “You’re free to still do so.”

When they finally reach the bed, Naruto is already shirtless and panting, and he’s tugging at Itachi’s necktie. “You can watch while fucking me. Sound fair?”

Itachi can’t disagree.

Like he said.

Just like a tornado.


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s so great about smoking?”

Gaara releases the smoke he’s been keeping stored in his lungs towards the ceiling, and then looks down at Naruto’s head, currently laid across his lap. He’s been tossing a pillow in the air for what seems like an hour now, but it doesn’t bother Gaara. Though he could really do without the image of a Naruto-cat-hybrid playing with yarn, because any minute now he’ll burst into laughter, and that would just be very uncharacteristic of him. Also, Naruto would never let him live it down. He quickly reapplies the cigarette to his lips and inhales, hoping to tamp the urge down.

Naruto begins to pout. “Oi. Did ya hear me?” He prods at Gaara’s bare stomach, and Gaara can barely keep the flinch from shaking his body.

He guesses it’s time to answer. “Never tried?”

“Never thought to,” Naruto answers, rising from his lap and stretching his arms. Gaara watches his sleek back unwind, tempted to touch him again. “Lemme try.” He cranes his neck a bit to look Gaara in the eye, and he’s giving him that look that he can’t refuse. He shrugs and holds his cigarette out. Naruto twists his wrist so that the cigarette is level with his mouth, his eyes never straying from Gaara's.

He watches with a little more than mild fascination as Naruto heavily inhales and holds it in for a consecutive ten seconds.

He coughs erratically.

Gaara attempts to soothe him by rubbing slow circles on his back, though he feels it doesn’t help much in the grand scheme of things.

“Awful,” remarks Naruto in the best way he can manage, pushing the cigarette far and away. “How do you even like that stuff?” Naruto asks this with so much incredulity that Gaara can’t help the smirk that pulls at his lips.

He shrugs. “It takes some getting used to.” Naruto still doesn’t look persuaded. He scrunches his blond eyebrows and narrows his eyes at the cigarette, as if trying to intimidate it to squeak out an answer. Gaara lets him do his thing. He gets like this sometimes, tuning in on the most minor of things, childish and curious. Gaara finds it… _cute,_ oddly.

Naruto gasps. “I wanna try something.”

Gaara stares at him, waiting for an explanation. He doesn’t get any. Instead, Naruto guides the cigarette to his lips again (he doesn’t know why, but it kind of turns him on). Then Naruto’s cheeks fill up so that his face is reminiscent of that of a hamster, and Gaara is having a really tough time trying not to laugh. All thoughts of dick activity are simply swept under the rug.

Naruto seems to have caught on to what’s buzzing through Gaara’s mind, and he _positively_ glares, but Gaara wonders how menacing one could look when inadvertently impersonating a harmless rodent. Apparently, not much.

But then Naruto tangles his fingers into his auburn hair, and Gaara has never figured out why, but he _loves_ it when his scalp is massaged like this. It’s almost enough to lull him to sleep, but he instantly rouses when Naruto’s lips are attached to his, liberating the smoke from his mouth only to be imprisoned again. He lets his eyes slip shut, lets himself focus on how Naruto’s initially dry lips turn soft and pliable for him, how the smoke burns his tongue and throat as it slowly slithers down, only to be relieved with the little dips of Naruto’s tongue into his mouth.

He doesn’t realize he’s pushed Naruto to the bed, caressing the curves of Naruto’s hips, how it pleasurably dips,  but he’s passed caring because Naruto’s already spread out under him, and maybe this is that high Americans always glorify in the movies; he’s not sure, but he surmises that this is close. He blows what little smoke he has left from his mouth back into Naruto’s and he positively _keens_. He massages Naruto’s thighs, wondering how long ago they last did it, probably an hour ago, he’ll probably still be good, but maybe he should still prepare him, _just in case-_

Naruto begins coughing again. It’s a tad on the shy side, but it’s enough for Gaara to regain his senses and back away. He keeps forgetting that Naruto’s fairly new to smoking. But Naruto doesn’t seem to be having any of that because before he knows it, he’s latched on to Gaara’s bottom lip with his teeth, legs locked around his waist. He licks his chin before allowing Gaara what little space he has between his legs.

“You’re not fine,” he comments. Naruto waves his hand in a noncommittal fashion.

“It just burned the back of my throat a bit. No biggie.”

Gaara’s not convinced. His erection is gone, and he doesn’t even feel like smoking anymore. He stubs the end of the cigarette in his hand on the metal Petri dish he made as a makeshift cig dish on his nightstand. Instead, he just settles at looking at Naruto, as Naruto begins to gently muss his hair. He really _does_ feel tired.

“It’s like a kiss of death,” Naruto murmurs, “what we did.”

“You didn’t like it.”

“Ehe, I liked the kissing,” he admits as he scratches at his blond hair. “But smoking alone… eeh, I’m not _too_ sold on it. Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize.”

“Mm,” Naruto hums as he kisses Gaara’s chin. “But _you_ liked it, didn’t you?”

“The kissing,” he agrees. He won’t say how he liked the image of Naruto smoking.

Naruto purses his lips, seeming convinced, and that’s enough for Gaara. “’Kay, since we’re trying new things, and I tried that and hated it _\- no offense-_ I wanted to try… another thing.” Naruto looks so apprehensive and unsure that Gaara feels a little pang in his heart.

He tries to ask it in the most casual way possible. “What would that be?”

“I…” Naruto chews around his lip. “I wanna get a tattoo.” Gaara raises his eyebrows at that. He thought it’d be something more earth-shattering, but he figures it must be pretty important for Naruto to be so nervous about it, so he doesn’t downplay it. “I’m getting a tattoo and you’re going to _promise_ that it won’t hurt like a bitch, or I’ll make you pay.” So that’s the reason. Naruto glares at him, but again, Gaara finds it more endearing than intimidating.

“Isn’t that what I already do?”

Naruto chuckles. “I’m kidding, ya doof. But, really. Promise it won’t hurt.”

“That depends on where you want to get it.” Well, Gaara isn’t going to lie.

Naruto scrunches his face. “My stomach.” Gaara proceeds to pinch him there and his body lurches from the bed. “ _Ow!_ What the hell, Gaara?”

“It’ll be worse than that.”

Naruto pouts petulantly. “I wasn’t prepared.” He sticks his tongue out. Gaara bites it, and Naruto bats him away. “Man, you’ve been a horn-dog lately. What’s gotten into you?”

 _You’re acting like a child and I find it extraordinarily cute. That’s why_ , Gaara thinks. He sighs and hugs Naruto’s body. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

“Damn right, it won’t,” Naruto admonishes, puffing slightly. It tickles his forehead. Gaara doesn’t know why, but he feels so damn contented lately. He falls asleep, and Naruto lets him.

He rarely gets any, after all.

*

Naruto knocks on the door and waits, shivering erratically as a gust of wind picks at his hair and licks at his ears. When no sign of movement behind the door alerts him, Naruto grits his teeth. _That asshole must be sleeping like a baby,_ he thinks, making to knock on the door for the third time. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to pound on it, and he’s even partially surprised that his knuckles haven’t started to bleed at how hard he’d been going.

“Oi, asshole! Open the damn door!” he manages to scream out despite his tremors. “Delivery for assholes! Asshole delivery!” he starts to randomly garble, hoping to collect some heat through haphazardly yelling at the top of his lungs. “Asshole express! Express for your asshole!”

“God _damn_ ,” Naruto hears, along with some hurried shuffling and then some toe-stubbing along the way. The door is wrenched open and there Shikamaru stands, leaning against the doorframe with his droopy eyes. His hair is not done up in a ponytail as it usually is and is instead pooling around his shoulders and in a disarray, his shirt a conglomeration of coffee spills, and his pants worse for wear with the knees ripped, doing less for the fashion statement, and more for a disheveled look, and not the good kind. Naruto is stunned, for lack of better wording. He’s never seen him this smashed before, even _when_ getting out of bed, and those are the worst of times. “Keep it down. You’ll wake the neighbors,” reprimands Shikamaru as he scratches at his hair.

“You wouldn’t have heard me otherwise. Now let me in! It’s freezing out here.” He rubs at his arms for further emphasis as he moseys into Shikamaru’s bachelor pad and hangs his parka on the coat rack. The living room is partly lit by the kitchen lights, mostly cast in darkness, but luckily, Naruto has come here enough times to remember that there’s a plant he will run into at the entrance and that the couch isn’t far off to his left.

He can never get over how sparsely decorated Shikamaru’s place is, all white walls, faux leather furniture, and golden light, but no sign of inhabitance. That is, until he gets to Shikamaru’s room. His bed is almost always unmade, sheets unfurled and curled like snakes because he takes any chance he can get to sleep.

Naruto doesn’t know how it’s possible for a human being to sleep as much as Shikamaru does in a week, much less a college student on a paid scholarship.

“Anyway, why are you here today? I thought our next appointment was Sunday,” Shikamaru calls from the kitchen as he turns the lights on in the living room.

Naruto places the plastic bag he’s carrying on the counter. “It _is_ Sunday. How long have you been sleeping, man?” He comes around the counter then stops when he sees photographs skewing the surface of the dining table and some more pinned to a corkboard by thumbtacks. Some Polaroids hang limply on a clothesline, stretching across the entire kitchenette. “Whoa! What the hell’s all this?”

Shikamaru clicks his tongue. “Project. It’s due tomorrow.” He goes to the clothesline to finger one of the Polaroids. “So no sex, tonight.”

Naruto is instantly taken aback. “But I brought taiyaki!” he protests, as if some meager pastries can change Shikamaru’s mind. Shikamaru rolls his eyes.

“I gotta finish these tonight. It’s for a winter expo.”

“Boo! _Fine,_ we don’t have to have sex. But the subway’s gonna be closed soon, and I’m miles away from Shinjuku, so let me spend the night,” Naruto pleads, attaching himself to Shikamaru’s back.

He untangles himself from Naruto’s vise grip. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep it down.” Shikamaru, instead of going straight to bed, sits at the dining table and begins to sift through bunches of photos clumped together. Left with nothing to do, Naruto digs through the plastic bag he set down and is immediately engaged with steam. He flinches back, but is successful in getting a taiyaki for himself.

He bites into it as he strolls back to look at the hanging Polaroids. Around a mouthful, he asks Shikamaru why some are hanging and some are pinned to the board.

“The ones on the corkboard are the ones I like best. Polaroids are second. Then these,” he gestures to the pile, “are the ones I still gotta look through.”

“How many do you need?”

“Sixty-five. Hence why I’m narrowing it down.”

Naruto nods as he takes another bite and scrutinizes each picture. He can’t find a pattern to any of these. They all look random and out of place to him. “What did you need to capture?”

Shikamaru sighs as he leafs through photos, in a fashion much like dealing cards. “Fleeting moments. Personally, I think the idea’s overdone, but ‘course I can’t complain since I’m just a measly student.” He rolls his eyes, already imagining the stupid professor’s face, and immediately regretting it.

“Oh, I like that one!” Naruto points to a Polaroid of a city in motion, capturing the neon lights with a few taxis and pedestrians here and there. “How’d ya manage that?”

“Travel expenses and vodka,” Shikamaru answers dismissively. “There are billions of photos like it. I put it there because I know my professor will just _love_ it,” he drones sarcastically. Naruto purses his lips.

“I think it looks nice. Where were you at when you took this?”

“New York.” Naruto absolutely _gawks_ at him. “What? I was gone for two weeks, remember?”

“But… I thought you were just gonna travel Japan! I didn’t know you’d cross the _border.”_

Shikamaru shrugs, throwing a whole stack of photos behind him. “You shoulda asked.”

Naruto blows a raspberry in his direction, but Shikamaru ignores it in favor of his photos. He hopes Naruto can stay quiet for at least five minutes, but of course it’s short-lived. “What’s this photo?” Naruto begins.

“Got invited to a Greek party. That’s when they were throwing the plates.”

“Why would they throw plates?”

“Google it.”

“Hmph. Okay, how about this one?”

Shikamaru rubs at his temples. “A couple celebrating their 40th anniversary.”

“This one?”

“Harajuku culture. Some girls eating ice cream.”

“Mm. _That_ one.”

“Little girl walking her dog in the snow.”

“How about this...”

“You’re getting on my nerves.”

Naruto scrunches his face, and Shikamaru can only hope to get rid of his oncoming headache. He really needs some Aspirin. “I was just _curious._ ” _Oh, great,_ Shikamaru thinks. He actually looks upset, and he’s never made Naruto upset before. Annoyed, yes, but that’s their modus operandi. He’s not very good at apologies either, but he guesses he could try.

“Sorry. I just need to finish this, and then you can ask all the questions you like.”

Naruto pouts, but Shikamaru rarely sees him _not_ pouting, so he _guesses_ he’s forgiven. Instead of asking more questions, Naruto settles down at the counter and eats his taiyaki, and thank the lord, because he’s _quiet_ when he eats and Shikamaru needs that. But in the end, he’s thrown the bad piles behind him, and the bad piles make up too much of the _damn_ pile as a _whole,_ so he needs to take some more before the night is over. Thankfully, he’s got at least sixty picked out already, and only about ten are faulty, but he can’t be picky when the hour hand is such a one-pump chump.

He takes the camera into his hands, and scrolls through all the photos, or what’s left of it anyway. There’s only one or two he really likes, and he can’t be assed to go outside and gallivant in this shitty weather. He looks to Naruto, who’s currently sifting through his refrigerator with some taiyaki locked between his jaws. “Hey, Shika, got any Pocari Sweat?” His words are muffled, and Shikamaru can only roll his eyes, once again. He decides to hell with it, and takes a picture.

Naruto flinches at the sudden flash and the taiyaki slips from his mouth to the floor. Shikamaru snorts. Naruto looks lost for a moment, and then he sees the camera poised in Shikamaru’s hands. “Did you just...” he begins.

“Yeah,” Shikamaru says, for lack of better wording.

“Son of a bitch! Delete that, _right now._ ” And Shikamaru _was_ going to till he actually looked at it more and found that he _likes_ it. Naruto’s not bad to look at, and his profile is much the same, with his long eyelashes and bangs, and even though he’s searching for food like an idiot when he _clearly_ has food in his mouth already, the picture looks _good_ and it’s _candid,_ and it fills all the requirements, and _damn it,_ he’s going to keep this photo.

“It’s a ‘fleeting moment,’ moron. Not all of them have to look spectacular. Now stop whining. You’re annoying.”

“ _You’re_ annoying!” he rebukes.

“Uh-huh. And yes. I have Pocari Sweat. It’s in the far back.”

“Look at what you made me do!” Naruto gestures to the fallen taiyaki. “That was my last one.”

“Five-second rule,” he comments off-handedly, as he locks the file on the camera. That way, if Naruto gets any sudden ideas, he won’t be doing anything stupid, like say, _deleting his photos._

“It’s been more than five seconds, idiot!”

“Then eat it. What do you want me to do? Wash it?”

Naruto groans and picks it up as he stomps over to the trash can to throw it away. “I hope you’re happy,” he hisses petulantly. 

“Very much.”

Eventually, Naruto gets fed up with trying to convince him to erase it, and migrates to the couch in the living room, jamming the keys on the remote to turn the TV on. He still looks visibly upset, but Shikamaru doesn’t believe it’s the type of upset he was earlier, so he continues to take photos. It’s a good thing he lives high up because then he can take photos on his balcony and what’s more candid than a crawling city?

He’s shivering as he takes photos, but he doesn’t care because this project is worth thirty percent of his damn grade and he’d rather get frost bite than fail this miserable class. He forgets the reason why he even wanted to become a photographer in the first place.

“Hey, you’re shivering like a wet dog.” Shikamaru feels something furry envelop him and realizes that Naruto has wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Instantly, he feels grateful, and grips it tightly. Naruto has his parka on again, Shikamaru notices.

Naruto leans against the railing, the wind flicking his bangs away. His nose is starting to get red. Shikamaru finds it cute, but he won’t say it out loud, of course.

When Naruto exhales through his mouth, a puff of white manifests and Shikamaru quickly takes a shot of it before the image disappears. He looks at the picture on his camera, and out of the 500 photos he’s taken, he likes this one the best. All the other photos were taken from a distance, of people he didn’t know, and of places he isn’t familiar with, but this one, this photo is _personal._ He likes that he can relate to it, likes how Naruto’s brows are knitted together, trying to bear through the cold, and how the frost he exhales casts Naruto in a white light, and makes him look like a literal _angel,_ and all of this from a normal, everyday occurrence and perspective.

Naruto might’ve just reminded him why he wants to become a professional photographer without even meaning to.

“Hey, asshole, stop flashing that damn thing all the damn time.” Naruto puts a palm up in front of the lens.

“Why?”

“Because it’s an invasion of my privacy, that’s why,” Naruto hisses out through gritted teeth. Shikamaru can’t tell whether the blush he has is from the cold, because of how irritated he is, or because he’s just _really_ embarrassed. He concludes that it’s all three.

Shikamaru chuckles. “I really don’t think you’re the best example for that.”

“Whatever. Suck my balls, Shika.” He flicks the camera a bird. Shikamaru takes a picture of it, anyway.

“Really? You want me to suck your balls right now? Ya sure they won’t freeze to death?”

 _“Suck. My. Balls,”_ Naruto reiterates. Shikamaru smiles, but instead of taking any more photos of Naruto, he shifts his attention to the city again. He’s pretty sure he has all the photos he needs anyway.

When they go back inside, Shikamaru’s first destination is the study, and Naruto is hot on his trail. “Hey,” Naruto whispers into his ear after seating himself in front of the laptop. “Lemme see the picture.”

Shikamaru decides to play with him. “Nah.”

“ _Why?_ It’s my damn photo!”

“I’m kidding. Here. It’s not bad, I promise.” He clicks onto the photo, the one he likes best, and when Naruto sees it, he flushes from neck up. Shikamaru smiles. “Like I said, _not bad._ ”

Naruto sniffs, looking off to the side. “Yeah. I guess it isn’t _all_ bad.”

Shikamaru smirks. “You _like_ it.”

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

“Touchy.”

He got an A. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late!~ I can't promise I'll ever be fast in shitting chapters out like I did for the first three chapters. Ya see, I had Thanksgiving break at the time, so I could actually DO things with my life, but high school's my possessive girlfriend, and she doesn't like it when I don't pay attention to her. BUT, good news is that in two weeks, I'll have my Christmas break and it'll be chapters galore! 
> 
> ALSO, I have a brother who's been helping me shit out these chapters, and I REALLY wanted to credit him with all the ideas he helps me to cultivate, so drum roll, please: o0kaymawn0o. If you're into DeanxSam (Yes, in that order), then check him out! He has some 'banging' stories, if you know what I mean ;) 
> 
> P.S., since I'm not of legal drinking age, I don't know two shits about alcohol besides what my drug and alcohol test has told me, which is very limited, as you will see once you read this chapter *laughs nervously*  
> 

The echoes were cacophonous, jarring. Rachmaninoff raps at the walls of his immaculate study, stuffing his ears to the brim with the tiniest of tinkles, but when combined, creating a sound reminiscent to that of chaos, to then slowly hush down so that it’s barely a whisper, like _marching mice._ It’s the imagery he thinks of, anyway. Enough to keep him interested in the piece, enough to keep him focused on the task at hand. Quite frankly, this piece annoys the shit out of him, pardon his French. Actually, Rachmaninoff is the main instigator of his annoyance. It’s like his pieces don’t know when to be quiet or when to be loud, or when to be playful or when to be menacing. Simply put, his pieces are almost always (he uses this phrase loosely) on the brink of ADD packed with a ton of sugar.

It just really irritates him. It irritates him and it pains him to the point of suicide, but he continues playing.  His fingers barely stay on a single key for more than a second, because again, Rachmaninoff’s pieces have ADD, and really, he _does_ need to focus, as much as he despises it, because his recital is less than two days away. He’s sure he’s sped through at least ten minutes of the piece already. Speeding through it probably isn’t recommendable, but he could care less.

Then he hears glass shattering in the next room, and his eyes flick up from the keys and to the doorway.

His fingers have already stopped playing, and he fights the urge to groan in agonizing distaste, but unfortunately, it’s an internal battle he loses because he pulls at his long hair and nearly growls. He stomps over to the next room, and the culprit stands by his broken, Venice-imported vase, scratching at his blond hair innocently. Neji hates how cute he looks, so intimidated and sorry, but he ignores it to the best of his abilities.

“Naruto, what do you think you are doing?” he asks, and he hates himself for not putting enough of a threat in his voice. He looks at one of his ab wheels precariously placed at the heel of Naruto’s foot.

Naruto visibly gulps. “I was just… strolling by?” He puts his hands up in a placating manner as he kicks the ab wheel away from him.

Neji grips at the bridge of his nose. “You were using that as a uniwheel.” He already knows the answer, so he doesn’t ask it.

Naruto quickly attaches to his side, rubbing his cheek on his right shoulder. “I’m sorry! I was really bored!”

“You know that was a vase I got from Venice, right?” Neji doesn’t make to move away from Naruto’s touch, though he knows he probably should since he’s being jostled back and forth and more likely to hit another expensive artifact in his living room. “It cost over 50,000 yen.”

“I-I’ll pay it back! Believe it!” Naruto looks like he’s on the brink of tears. Maybe it sways his decision a bit, because he’s already regretting playing with him like this. He sighs and pats his head.

“That’d be ridiculous. You’ll just end up returning the money I give you.” Neji begins to untangle himself from Naruto’s vine-like grip. “There’s not much sense in that.”

Naruto pouts and looks down at his feet. “Guess not. But, I really want to make it up to you.”

“Don’t exert yourself. I was at fault for making you wait.” Neji makes his way across the living room and to his kitchen. He feels appalled for having left Naruto without so much as a drink of water, and while his parents may have taught him nothing short of nothing, they’ve at least taught him how to be a hospitable host. “Care for a drink?”

“Nah. I already drank all of your juice.”

Neji quirks his lips because this is in fact true. He’s fresh out of anything to drink besides water in his fridge. He closes it resolutely after getting himself a bottle. “Like I said, make yourself at home,” Neji says after a chug of water. “And stay away from the vase,” he adds, almost like an afterthought. “The maid will take care of it in the morning.”

“Wait, are you going back?” Naruto asks. He cocks his head to the study. “To play, I mean?”

Neji sighs for the umpteenth time. “At this point, I have no choice.”

“Like hell you don’t!” Naruto jumps over the glass shards and swiftly makes his way to Neji. “I may not be a musician, but your playing sounds really rushed.”

Neji feels a flare of anger erupt in his stomach, but he tamps it down. “Naruto, don’t lecture me. I don’t have time for it.”

Naruto puts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to. I just feel like you could take a break.”

“I can’t afford breaks. Time simply can’t permit it.”

Naruto smiles at him, gentle, appeasing, as his hands come up to caress his cheeks. " _Take a break._ Change your pace. It’ll make you more focused. At least I think so, anyway.”

“Then what do you suggest?” he asks this in the most innocent way possible.

Naruto beams, enough so that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Let’s go to a club!”

Neji doesn’t hide how disappointed he feels.

*

He doesn’t know how or why, but he’s at a club in Shinjuku and he doesn’t know what to feel about it. He’ll venture to guess that that blowjob he got managed to suck his brains out too because Naruto has persuaded him enough to call the only acquaintances he knows, Tenten and Lee, and it’s a shame that they’re the only people he knows outside of Naruto and his family, because these two _cannot_ for the life of them keep their hands _off_ each other.

The minute he had agreed to go, Naruto had tugged him by the sleeve and forced him into a cab straight for the red light district. He doesn’t understand why they couldn’t just take one of the Hyuga’s chauffeurs, but he’s here now, and he can’t complain, though he _can_ complain about the club. “You call this relaxing? All I see is debauchery.”

Tenten giggles in one of her hands, and not in both, because the other one is obviously already occupied with Lee’s hand. “No one says debauchery anymore, Neji. Live a little.”

Neji crosses his arms. He won’t ever acknowledge how petty he executed this. “I don’t recall grinding on each other’s genitals a way to live.”

Naruto pats him on the back and leans in to whisper in his ear. “Hey, it’s fun to grind on each other’s genitals.” He winks at him and Neji already feels like going home. Well, he felt like that from the get-go, but now, he feels it even more so.

“This is youth in its basest form!” Lee shouts over the music. “I am very impressed by the way those men gyrate on the floor!” He gestures to them, and Neji groans. Thankfully, the waiter arrives with their shot glasses, and it ends Lee’s tirade of historical ‘manly’ rituals. Again, he’s reminded that he will never know what Tenten sees in him.

Naruto sighs as he wipes at his lips after downing his bourbon or whiskey. He hadn’t paid attention when they ordered and he doesn’t know the difference between the two, either way. When he realizes that all three of them are staring at him intently, he ticks an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re not going to drink?” Tenten asks.

He harrumphs. “Someone has to supervise, at least.”

Naruto waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t be so uptight! Here.” He shoves a shot glass to his chest. “Let’s have a contest.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Neji doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“You want something.” He finds that he doesn’t ask Naruto many questions because he always knows what the answer is already.

“Well, I _may or may not_ want to see you drunk.”

Tenten laughs. “Actually, me too!”

“I don’t think it’s honorable of us to pressure fellow friends, but in all honesty, I would like to see an inebriated Neji as well!” Lee inputs. 

He sighs, because he already knows that he can’t get out of this. “What are the rules?”

Naruto clears his throat in a dramatic fashion. “The one to finish three shots first wins.”

“That’s it?”

“That is it,” Naruto reiterates.

Neji mentally shrugs. It’d be easy to get out of the way, at least. In the beginning, anyway.

Neji has always been privy to Naruto’s competitive streak, but it has never been against _him._ Now that he’s experiencing it, he finds it both hilarious and irritating. Hilarious, because Naruto is making really cute expressions and he’s possibly already feeling the side effects of the alcohol. Irritating, because Naruto won’t stop till he wins and his throat feels like it’s been soaked in bleach.

At one point, he’s had enough and he pretends to be slower, but Naruto catches on even in his intoxicated state, and Neji finds that he _really_ doesn’t want to have to deal with a violent Naruto. It doesn’t help much that the alcohol is enhancing his already exhibitionistic tendencies.

When Neji drinks the last of his line of shots, Naruto slams his second on the table, jostling it enough so that his third tips over and the whiskey spills. “How do you keep _beating_ me? You’re an uptight, richie-rich! I want a do-over!”

Neji covers his mouth when he feels an oncoming burp, and is glad that it bypasses without incident. “This will be the last one. If you lose, I’m calling you a cab.”

“Then get ready to _lose_ , punk, ‘cause I ain’t goin’ nowhere!” There went his country accent. Neji actually laughs at it, but Naruto doesn’t notice because he’s already ordering another ten shots to a waiter across the room. Luckily, they’re at a club, so he doesn’t draw much attention.

When the drinks arrive, Naruto doesn’t even wait for Tenten to tell them to start. For this round, Neji _intends_ to win. It’s for Naruto’s sake, after all, as well as his. Their intake has already exceeded standards of average health.

As it turns out, Neji wins again, though that was already set in stone. Naruto fumes silently as Neji gives him a hard look. “But… But… that sucks! _You_ suck! You definitely cheated!”

“You’re going home, Naruto.” Neji says it so that there’s no room to argue.

“You’re not my _father!_ ” Naruto sticks his tongue out but doesn’t protest when Neji wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him out of the booth.

“If I were, then that would give a whole other meaning to what a daddy kink is.” He can’t believe he just said ‘daddy kink,’ but the deed is already done. He looks at Tenten and Lee, but they’re too occupied with each other to even care that they’re leaving. They wave goodbye, but he knows it wouldn’t really make any difference if he and Naruto were to have stayed.

When a cab stops in front of them, he gently pushes Naruto into the backseat, where Naruto then leans against the left headrest. “Where do you want to be dropped off?” Neji asks. He figures it’s best that he doesn’t come. He’s never been to Naruto’s place before, and he doesn’t know whether the sober Naruto would appreciate him dropping by without his permission.

Naruto giggles and points ahead. “That _biiiig_ hotel.”

Neji looks to where he’s pointing, and it’s the Uchiha Hotel, that five-star hotel his family from abroad frequently books their stay in. He gives him a patronizing look. “I’m serious, Naruto.”

“Me _toooo._ I know a guy there.”

“Who is he?” Neji isn’t about to go and let Naruto march there in his drunken stupor only to be kicked out and into the streets.

“God. Shtap with all the damn questions. Bottom line is, I know a hotshot from there,” Naruto slurs. Neji doesn’t ask how he knows this so-called ‘hotshot,’ but he elects to just trust in Naruto’s words.

“Fine. But I better not wake up to news about a blond Japanese man getting mugged in an alleyway.”

“Yes, _mother._ ” Naruto flutters his eyelashes at him.

Neji snorts. “I thought I was your father.”

“That would just be _sick,_ Neji. Get out of here. I don’t even want to see your face!” Naruto mock-glares at him as Neji backs away from the car and closes the door. Immediately, Naruto rolls his window down.

“Wait, where are you going? Don’t leave!”

“You just said that you didn’t want to see my face.”

“I didn’t say that…” Naruto turns his face away, almost in embarrassment. Neji doesn’t know what he’ll ever do with this guy.

“Yes you did. Now go on and meet the hotshot.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Naruto realizes, as he hurries to buckle his seatbelt. “Floor it, Mr. Driver!”

Neji watches as the car eases away from the curb and heads for the hotel. He just hopes Naruto doesn’t get side-tracked and do something stupid.

*

Itachi rubs at his worn eyes. He really doesn’t want to give Sasuke more cause to worry, but spending his Sunday nights at one of the suites has become a basic ritual for him. It’s not that he wants to. It’s just that his paperwork accumulates over the week and throughout the day so that he’s then left to resignedly pore over all of them before Monday peaks over the horizon.

He’s just about to signature a contract from Taiwan when he hears a resolute knock and a muffled “Delivery service!” Itachi quirks his head to the side. He doesn’t remember calling anyone up, but he makes to stand from the kotatsu and to the door, anyway.

When he opens the door, he feels evident surprise. Naruto is there, leaning against the doorframe, blinking rapidly and slightly swaying, to the point where he trips over his own foot. Fortunately, Itachi catches him before he falls, as well as catches a whiff of him. Immediately, he frowns. “You’re drunk, I see,” he comments.

Naruto’s hiccup proves it all the more. “Mm-hm. Wanna drag me to bed and _ravage_ me?” he giggles.

Itachi smiles at his tenacity, even when inebriated.  “Suffice it to say, I have papers to manage. But you’re free to roam wherever you please.”

Naruto hums in agreement, caressing his hips and kissing his neck. “I wanna roam my hands over _you._ ”

Itachi chuckles as he eases away from Naruto’s wandering hands. “Once I finish my papers, I’ll consider it. Right now, you need some rest.” As he leads Naruto by the arm towards the king bed, he whines and tries to wrench his arm free, as futile as it is.

“ _Noooo._ I’m ready to party, Itachi!”

“Yes, yes,” Itachi placates him as he hoists a whining Naruto on his back and deftly makes his way over to the bed, where he then deposits Naruto and proceeds to take his clothes off. He knows how much Naruto likes to sleep naked. When he’s safely tucked in and is no longer flailing his arms, Itachi makes to stand, only to nearly fall back onto the bed when the back of his shirt is tugged.

“Goodnight kiss. But do it, like, _hard,_ ” Naruto grouses, encircling his waist and snuggling to his side.

“Do it like hard?” Itachi repeats to a _very_ incoherent Naruto.

“Mm.”

Itachi feels laughter bubbling in his chest. He doesn’t understand how a grown, 23-year-old man can be so _cute,_ so docile. When he doesn’t move to close in, Naruto takes the initiative and wraps an arm around his neck. “Look, look, I’ll show you!”

It’s a reflexive habit of his to lick his lips before meeting with Naruto’s, so he does just that. Apparently, Naruto hasn’t thought this out too far because his lips are dry as sand. Itachi chalks it up to the alcohol, particularly whiskey; he can taste it on him. He hopes Naruto sipped it instead of tossing it back, but he already knows how reckless he can be, so his hopes are for naught.

Naruto is heavily engrossed with playing with his tongue _hard,_ as he put it, and Itachi lets him. He’ll run out of breath anytime soon. He finds that when Naruto is under the influence of alcohol, he forgets to breathe when kissing, and just like that, he’s released from their sloppy lip-lock, and Naruto is panting heavily and collapsing on his back, pulling Itachi with him.

“ _Itachiii,_ let’s do it tonight,” Naruto pleads, though his arms are so flimsily draped around Itachi’s shoulders that he’s sure he’ll be knocked out before they even get started.

He decides to play with him a little bit. A drunken Naruto is a cute Naruto, after all. “Will you be servicing me as usual?”

“Mm-hm. I got killer blow jobs and a nice ass to spank and _everything…_ ” Naruto yawns and it _really_ reminds him of a cat. Those whisker-like scars on his cheeks do him justice. Itachi can’t help wanting to kiss him and he does just that and Naruto mewls in response, arching his back and lazily playing with a strand of his hair. “Itachi. More?” he whispers against his lips, breathless and innocent enough.

Itachi grins and pushes off of the bed. “Later.” That is, if Naruto is sober enough as well as awake.

“No, _nooooow,_ ” Naruto whines, but he’s already snuggling up to a pillow by his side.

“Later,” Itachi repeats, kissing his blond hair and turning the lamp off on the bedside table. The room is swathed in darkness with only the crack of the door allowing what little luminescence can seep in from the living room, but it’s enough for Itachi to be able to see and be able to make his way out. The paperwork he set out to do is still on the kotatsu, stacked in neat piles and very much unfinished, and it takes a lot for him to not act like a child and push it off till morning. It’s midnight already, and he doesn’t have time to waste.

Really, that Naruto can be such a handful sometimes, but it’s a handful he’s not willing to trade off with anything else. He’s actually surprised that Naruto was able to find the hotel suite in his drunkenness, but then again, this is usually where they meet for their rendezvous. While Itachi’s glad that Naruto always comes to him for any of the problems he may have (and he’s _so delighted_ when Naruto relies on him because he doesn’t do it nearly enough), he’s also glad that Naruto has widened his circle of friends, even if it risks Naruto finding comfort in someone else. Before, he’d been such a lonely creature, barely getting enough to eat, barely getting enough of anything to simply _live,_ and Itachi just _had_ to help him in any way he could. He _had_ to. He had to and he doesn’t regret it.

But that’s another story to think about at a better time. He has paperwork to finish.

*

Naruto has to throw up. He has to throw up but he can’t make out anything in this damn darkness. A bit of light filters in through some windows to his right, but the drawn curtains obstruct everything else, which is something he’s glad for because it lessens the probability of him emptying his stomach on this soft, satin-covered bed. Which reminds him, he has no idea where he is. He pats the other side of the bed for any sign of warmth, for any sign of human contact besides himself, but it’s completely devoid of both of those things.

Also, he’s cold and he’s sure his balls have frozen with it. He’s naked, he next realizes, but he doesn’t feel sore, so he’s sure someone just stripped him naked. Surely, it’s someone he knows, or else they wouldn’t know about him liking to sleep in the nude. He clicks his tongue in contemplation- _should I turn the lamp on or no?_ For one thing, he’s scared of what he’ll find, of where he’s landed himself, but for another thing, he really needs to get out of here. He has to meet Kiba soon.

He decides to hell with it. It couldn’t hurt, though it’ll probably cause him a huge headache with such bright light being introduced to his adjusting eyes. As he thought, as the light flickers on, his headache triples. He shields them in the best way he can and scans the room, and he instantly picks up the plasma TV in front of the bed, and that familiar, beige love seat he spilled lemonade on once. He can make out the stain from where he is just a little bit.

Immediately, he sighs with relief and flops back onto the bed. He’s with _Itachi._ It’s so relieving that Naruto can giggle like a little girl. Already he can hear some doors in the next room opening and closing and he pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Itachi?” he calls out. The sounds cease outside of the room.

Naruto cocks his head in confusion, shifting a bit to get to the edge of the bed. At the bed-frame, a blue yukata is draped on it, and he immediately tugs at it and puts it on so that it’s secure on him. Just as he’s finishing tying the sash around his waist, the door opens and light floods into the room. His immediate reaction is to squint and block his eyes and get a bit angry because Itachi should know how sensitive to light he is when experiencing a hangover. “Oi, Itachi, close the door. It hurts my eyes!”

When Itachi doesn’t answer, he growls. “Hey! Can you close the door?” he repeats, but again he’s left with no answer. Naruto blinks his eyes rapidly, but he can only make out a silhouette, and Naruto may be having a hangover, but he’s definitely sure Itachi doesn’t have that hairstyle. Unless he got a new haircut this morning and he just hasn’t been informed about it.

Then his eyes fully adjust and Naruto doesn’t recognize this Itachi. It may not be Itachi _at all._

“You have _three_ seconds to explain what the hell you’re doing in my brother’s room.”

And that’s answer enough for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just read it. It'll make sense as you go.

So.

So much for keeping a poker face. He really needs to remind himself that he isn’t all that great at hiding his emotions because now Kiba knows everything. Well, the gist of it anyway. His worries are momentarily forgotten though because Kiba is fucking out his sanity, surely and steadfastly, and if not his sanity, then his morality, though he guesses he didn’t have much of that to begin with.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Kiba hisses into his ear, and deliberately at that. Naruto knows that he’s close. The thrusts gain in momentum, and the bed frame shakes with each one, and Kiba keeps whispering all these obscenities into his ear, and Naruto doesn’t know why, but he _likes_ it. He questions this because he’s never liked dirty talk in the first place. “You feel so damn _good._ ”

“Mm, _harder,_ ” Naruto almost whines, voice quivering and breaking at the seams. He’d be embarrassed at any other time at how broken and retched he sounds, at how it almost sounds pubescent and inexperienced, but again, all thoughts of rationality or judgment or what have you is currently set aside for what’s happening now.

How Kiba rabidly pounds into his body like a dog in heat, (which is funny because they’re in doggy-style right now, but that’s a thought best saved for later), how Kiba knows what angle he likes it best, how fast, how _deep_. Maybe Kiba is his best customer so far, but he always thinks this about every other customer that pummels into his body, so he doesn’t think he can bestow this title onto Kiba just yet.

“Touch me,” he demands. Not begs, because he doesn’t beg, not _really._ Kiba does as he’s told, peppering kisses down the nape of his neck and spine and biting it there. He arches his back into it, and he’s rewarded with a growl and a slap to his ass because Kiba loves it when Naruto responds to his roughness with complete submissiveness. He’s not an analyst or anything, but is that sadism he detects? Kiba might not be so vanilla after all.

When Naruto feels that build-up in his hips, that sweetness engulfing his lower half only to spread up and out, his death grip on the sheets leave to find purchase on Kiba’s hips; a sort of soft persuasion. “Don’t stop...” he croaks out, licking at Kiba’s cheek.

“Close?” Kiba rasps.

He barely nods, but he guesses he didn’t really need to. Kiba gets faster, his thrusts short but deep, groaning and grunting, while he mewls and moans, barely containing himself, figuratively and literally.

Naruto digs his fingers into Kiba’s arm, the one propping them both up, feeling a stutter in Kiba’s hips as well as his own, and when he feels it come, he’s overwhelmed with how simply _good_ it feels, all carnal and powerful and encompassing his entire body, arching and bowing and breaking. He’s not even humiliated at how his voice cracks anymore. He’s too fucked out for that.

Breaking can be good sometimes.

Both of them struggle to catch their breaths as Kiba slides out of his body with the most obscene sound, making Naruto hum a bit in quiet approval. He sighs and flops onto the bed, hearing Kiba rummage around for tissues as he disposes of the condom as well as all other evidence of their nightly activities.

He turns over onto his back to scratch at his belly. He _really_ needs to eat, but he’d been so angry that he forgot to. Just thinking back on it makes him irate again.

He glances over at Kiba to distract himself, seeing him pull a shirt over his head and then a pair of baggy, drawstring pants over his legs. Naruto cringes. “You’re not gonna shower?”

Kiba shrugs, mussing his hair a bit. “A little sweat won’t kill me.” Well, it wouldn’t, but it certainly wouldn’t stop Naruto from showering anyway.

“Gross. You really _are_ a dog,” he offhandedly comments.  

Kiba snorts. “You’re surprisingly hygienic, Whiskers.”

“You didn’t have to add an extra word, Dog-Breath.” Naruto sticks his tongue out petulantly. “I shower every morning and night. It’s called being _healthy._ ”

“And here I am, healthy as a horse.” Kiba is close enough to the bed that he flicks Naruto’s nose, which Naruto doesn’t take too kindly to as he swats the hand away. “But anyway. What rode up _your_ ass?”

“Besides you?” Naruto taunts. It’s a weak attempt at best, but when he sees an opportunity, he takes it.

Kiba gives him a deadpan expression, a very expected one at such a terrible joke. “ _Ha-ha,_ you’re such a comedian.”

Naruto grins, despite himself, as he wobbly gets to his feet. His legs feel like jelly, but he manages to make it to the bathroom anyway. “Oi, gonna tell me or what?” Naruto knows what Kiba is referring to, but he pretends he didn’t hear it as the water from the shower gushes out. “Oh, ignoring me, huh? Mature.”

He rolls his eyes, sticking his hand into the water to check it. “Nothing _happened._ ”

Kiba purses his lips as he leans against the doorframe and watches Naruto tinker with his bathtub. “Blondie, how long have I known you?”

“And that’s relevant becaaaause?”

“’cause I know when your cereal’s been pissed on. The walking-into-my-house-like-you-own-it, the angry sex, and _oh yeah_ , eating all my damn ice cream. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were PMSing.”

Naruto bursts into laughter. “Eww. Cereal with piss in it.”

“Stop changing the subject, fox-face,” Kiba hisses, though there’s no bite to it.

When Naruto deems the water warm enough, he slides the curtain aside and gets into the tub. “But what if I don’t _wanna_ tell you?”

Honestly, the water’s so loud he can barely hear, but Kiba makes a rebuke at that anyway. “Fine. If that’s how you’re gonna be, all butthurt and assholy, then I’ll just eat nikujaga by myself.”

“Ah! You asshole! Using food to get information like that!” Naruto yells over the rush of water. “You’re cheating!”

“I never said anything about _not_ being a cheater,” Kiba retorts. Naruto is reminded that Kiba cheats on Modern Warfare all the time.

He growls. “ _Fine._ I’ll tell you, so don’t eat all the nikujaga, traitor.”

“Glad to make business with ya.”

Then Kiba leaves and the door shuts.

Frankly, Naruto doesn’t want to discuss what went down at the hotel earlier, just because doing so would require him calling back those memories, and if he recalls them, he’ll remember that stupid asshole’s face, but he figures Kiba kind of deserves to know what little Naruto can reveal about it. He _did_ just stroll into his house, eating all his fancy ice cream without a care after all.

Kiba had let him, and even if he hadn’t, Naruto would’ve probably kept eating anyway. He’d been so irritated, he didn’t know what to do with himself, and if food’s in ready access for him, he’ll take what he can get.

This is the first time he’s ever been caught red-handed. That asshole with duck-butt for hair said that he wouldn’t breathe a word of this to Itachi, but how much trust could he put on an asshole like him? An asshole that tore at his very being, nitpicking everything and judging him based on what he simply saw?

Naruto buries his hands into his hair, scrubbing at his hair furiously and drowning it with shampoo.

That bastard told him to never come back. Who the hell did he think he was, bossing Naruto around like that? Besides, Itachi’s the only one with a say in all of this, _not_ him. He’ll leave when Itachi tells him to, not when some random shit-for-brains just comes and decides to take the reins of the situation to suit him best.

But the trouble is, _should he tell Itachi?_

When he finishes showering, he dons a pair of boxers on as well as a plain, white tee from Kiba’s dresser. Immediately, he’s assaulted with the smell of soy sauce and cooked meat when he leaves the confines of the bedroom.

At the kitchen table, he sees Akamaru sniffing at his bowl curiously with Kiba seated at the head of the table and waiting for him patiently. Naruto smiles as he makes his way over. “You washed your hands, right?”

“Yes, asshole. I’m not _that_ disgusting.”

“But you acknowledge you’re disgusting?”

“Just eat your damn food, Naruto.” Naruto chuckles as he takes a seat and gives his graces. He’s forgotten how good home-cooked meals taste, and he thanks the lord for Kiba because this is some good nikujaga. Akamaru whines beside him, but he ignores it. That’s probably the only thing he hates about eating in at Kiba’s house. He feels so bad for Akamaru because he won’t ever be able to eat meals like this, and dogs are supposed to be happy little things (though Akamaru is very much _not_ anywhere near little anymore), and dogs aren’t happy when they’re like this. Before he gets side-tracked though, Kiba asks him about what happened again.

Naruto sighs. He guesses it’d be okay to rant. _Just_ a little.

*

“This is rare. What made you want to seek out my company? Trying out drugs?”

And it’s not even been a minute yet, and Suigetsu has already managed to step on a figurative landmine. Sasuke doesn’t deign to answer such a stupid question, even if it’s to make casual conversation. Suigetsu should know better than to make idle talk with him, and if Sasuke goes by the placating gesture Suigetsu’s currently giving him, he knows it very well. “Okay, okay. No drugs. So what is it?”

Sasuke tips some vodka back and immediately chases it with cranberry juice. If he’s going to say anything, it has to be when he’s loose but lucid about it, and if he’s going to tell anyone about it, it has to be Suigetsu, because one, he has no one else to talk to besides Juugo, (and he figures Juugo won’t have anything to say besides the casual grunt and nod anyway) and two, he knows no one else as unscrupulous but shrewd as Suigetsu. If anyone has time to waste and the interest to waste it, it would be him.

Though, he _does_ fathom if Itachi falls into the same category now. He can’t believe it. His _own_ brother, an esteemed and astute man of Uchiha lineage, _fucking_ a prostitute and letting said prostitute roam around in their family hotel.

He keeps trying to rationalize it, but he can’t find any possible, _coherent_ reason why his brother would seek out company from a lowly whore, and one so uncouth as that fox-faced brat at that.

“Hello? Earth to Sasuke?” Suigetsu waves a hand in front of him, but Sasuke ignores it.

“Someone has overstayed their welcome. I want to get rid of them.”

“Whoa. This sounds like some hit-man shit. I am _not_ the guy to go to for that.” Suigetsu puts his hands up as he languidly sips from his martini. “So? Who’s the guy that pissed you off?”

Sasuke fights the growl threatening to spill from his lips. “A prostitute,” and Sasuke says this with no room to argue. He knows what he saw and he’s sticking to it.

Suigetsu looks at him with incredulity, but before he can jump to conclusions, Sasuke shoots him a warning through his eyes alone. Suigetsu knows what not to say at the best of times, Sasuke will give him that. “So it’s not yours.”

“No.”

“But the prostitute belongs to a guy you know?”

“You could say that.” Sasuke isn’t even sure he knows his brother all that well anymore, so he’s not lying. But it’s vague enough to pacify Suigetsu’s curiosity and enough to keep Suigetsu from guessing who it really is. He can already see the candidates Suigetsu’s scrolling through in his mind, but Itachi won’t be one of them. He made sure of that.

“So, like, what did the prostitute do? Proposition you? Murder your second cousin, twice removed? What?”

“The prostitute’s a nuisance. Like I said, they’ve overstayed their welcome.”

“So what’d ya do?”

“I told them to leave. But I’m sure they’ll come back again. That whore needs telling twice,” Sasuke hisses, gesturing for more vodka. The bartender nods and goes to the back to fetch some more. Left with nothing to keep his hands occupied, he traces the rim of the glass mechanically.

Suigetsu hums. “Well, what do you plan to do when they come back?”

Sasuke harrumphs in distaste. “If that whore is as brainless as I think they are, then I’ll make sure they never come back for good.”

“You sound like you’re gonna kill them,” Suigetsu idly comments, though he has a hard time keeping the suspicion out of his voice.

Sasuke, having gotten a refill, immediately feels his mood lighten and cracks a smile. “I’d be more creative than that.”

Suigetsu shrugs. “Well, chances are, you might’ve scared them off already. I mean, the great Uchiha Sasuke giving you his death glare and all. The most effective thing I’ve seen since guns, really.”

Sasuke smirks because he knows that idiot wouldn’t run off like some wild antelope. He’s gutsier, and possibly stupider, than that. He downs another shot of vodka, chasing it down with cranberry again. He wipes at his lips. “Let’s hope they got the memo.”

Though he’s sure that they’ll meet again. _That,_ he is certain of.

*

“So lemme get this straight. You were out drinking,” Kiba begins to count off, “woke up in a hotel, got caught by your customer’s brother, and fought tongues with him.”

Naruto blanches. “Ew, no. You make it sound like I made out with him.”

Kiba waves his hand dismissively. “Blah blah blah. So then what happened?”

“Well, it obviously didn’t end up with us having a tea party discussing our deepest, darkest secrets.” Naruto stuffs more food into his mouth. “It went down how you’d imagine it. He called me a whore sucking his brother dry of his money, and I told him he could go fuck himself because I certainly wasn’t gonna do it for him.”

Kiba guffaws as he continuously slams his hand on the table, consequentially startling Akamaru. “Then what did the asshole do?”

“He told me how much of a menace I was to society, that I was lucky to have even been graced with the presence of his brother. All this mumbo-jumbo that I tuned out as I got my shit together to leave.”

“Sounds like some whacko worshiper to a cult.”

“Psh, not even close. What an asshole. I was getting ready to punch his pretty, little mouth too.”

“Naruto.” Kiba eyes him with a certain glint in his eye. “You thought he was hot.”

Naruto quickly bristles and crosses his arms. “Hell no! _Kiba,_ he threatened to murder my offspring and my offspring’s offspring!”

“Did he really?” Kiba gives him a mocking consoling look.

“Well, _no._ But he _did_ threaten to call the cops.”

“And the truth comes out.” Kiba slowly claps. Naruto is highly considering socking him in the face. “So what did you glean from this experience?”

“That there are assholes in this world with duck-butt for hair and they should be eradicated from this planet.”

“Yes, and what else?”

Naruto glares at him. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Yes, your blunders  _do_ please me in this mundane life of mine.” Kiba pretends to stroke at his imaginary goatee. “So, are you planning to go back?”

Naruto harrumphs, his chewing louder and angrier as he shoves more potato into his mouth. “You’re damn right I am!” There’s no question about it. And if he meets that sourpuss again, well, so be it. He’ll parade around, commando or not, Itachi or not, and there’s nothing that asshole can do to make him stop. “I’ll make that guy cry uncle.”

“Gross. Really, you’ll be sent to jail one day if you keep this up.”

“You’d bail me out.”

“Bail you out, my ass. You can rot in there for all I care.”

Naruto narrows his eyes. “Who was it that begged me to listen when they were having a sexuality crisis?”

Kiba immediately blushes and grabs his bowl to wash it in the sink. “We don’t talk about that.”

“Admit it. You’d be one of the first to get me out of there.”

“Whatever. Piss off.”

Naruto laughs. That asshole can threaten to call the cops on him all he wants, harp on about how useless he is and whatnot, but he’ll never let him have his way if Naruto has any say in it, even if Itachi hates him for it. 

He can be sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me, please. I know you guys wanted the interaction between them and were all psyched about it, but their second interaction is the one I'm building up to. But still... I'M SORRY SORRY SORRY BUT ALL I CAN SAY IS THAT THEIR SECOND MEETING WILL BE ASD;FLJASDFJ SO DON'T HATE ME *hides under rock* (also I didn't know how to write their first meeting so this is me copping out on it) 
> 
> *is dead*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah... hahaaha... I made you guys wait an entire week + three days, and this is what I came up with? I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. As deeply as Naruto is fucked in the ass by fuckboys. Even now, I still feel unsatisfied with how I executed this chapter. Again, I am sorry. I am sorry I am sorry I am sor-
> 
> *is shot*

“How are your grades, Sasuke?”

On the rare occasion that Sasuke and his family get to eat together at their often-empty dining table, this seems to be the only thing his father, Fugaku Uchiha, can make light conversation about. Sasuke chews on his ootoro thoughtfully.

“There’s been no change,” he informs, almost robotically. This exchange of theirs is tiresome, often fabricated with palpable lies that Sasuke can pick up at a drop of a hat. He knows that his father hates, no, _despises_ the idea of him going off to college to major in something that doesn’t pertain to their family business. In fact, his father doesn’t hesitate to make it known that Sasuke’s “pipe-dreams” are simply that– _pipe-dreams._ He can tell by his father’s tick of an eyebrow that he’s not impressed.

“You don’t care to tell me more?”

Sasuke has the serious urge to roll his eyes. He already knows that his father really isn’t interested. This is a test– to see if he’s changed his mind at any point in time. His mother constantly glances between the two of them, but she doesn’t make any sound to interrupt.

Sasuke pushes his plate to the side when he’s finished his food. “There hasn’t been anything new to tell, unfortunately.”

Fugaku harrumphs. “Your classes don’t seem to be very productive.”

Sasuke clenches his hands tightly into balls. Just as he’s about to speak, Itachi pats his hand under the table, and the anger and frustration slowly ease away.

“Father, Sasuke is working very hard in his classes. I remain in constant contact with his dean, and know this for a fact,” Itachi relays confidently, and Sasuke has never felt any gladder to have a reliable brother like him. And then he remembers. He remembers what those hands have touched, what it _caresses._ Like his hand is burned, Sasuke rips it away from under his brother’s touch. Itachi eyes him curiously. 

Fugaku hums in musing as he sips on his sake. “As I should expect from an Uchiha. Speaking of Uchihas, how is that deal with Vancouver?”

“It’s settled. In fact, I’ll be leaving for Vancouver to make the last modifications.”

“Excellent. When are you expected to leave?”

“Two weeks from today,” Itachi dutifully informs.  

Dinner doesn’t end up taking too long because his father is placated with knowing the fact that his two sons are doing well. When the table is swept of all the food, Sasuke couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Unfortunately, his brother is faster, and currently very hot on his trail. He already knows he won’t be able to avoid this confrontation (all because of one stupid blunder), so he makes sure they’re far and away enough to talk. When he makes it to the garden, he turns around to speak and feels his brother poke him on the forehead.

Out of habit, he rubs at it and pouts at Itachi.  

“Stop that,” he hisses.

Itachi grins at him. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Hn,” Sasuke grunts, turning away from him. He picks up some pebbles by the artificial river dug into their backyard, and throws it across the rippling surface, satisfied that it makes it all the way to the other side, though his satisfaction quickly wanes when he feels his brother’s concentrated gaze drilling holes at the back of his head. He sighs. “I know what you wanna ask.”

Itachi says nothing.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he lies. He hopes it sounds convincing, but hey, his brother can’t be pointing fingers now. Sasuke’s not stupid. He’s always known his brother was lying to him all this time, but he just took it in stride, knowing that his brother did it out of protection of some sort. Itachi could pretend to do the same, at least.

His brother smiles, but Sasuke can tell it’s fake. “If you say so, then I have no rebuttal.”

Sasuke clenches his jaw. Itachi’s doing it again. He’s making it so that he can’t refuse to tell him, but Sasuke steels himself. He won’t breathe a word of this. That’s what he promised himself. He doesn’t want to believe that his brother fucks a prostitute out of his own volition.

Childish it may be, but he will preserve his brother’s image no matter what it takes, even if he has to lie to himself. Lying is the Uchihas’ greatest talent, after all, even towards themselves.

*

Pein attaches the prong of the cord to the machine, and tests the needle. Immediately, it begins to vibrate in his hand, so much so that he feels the vibration travel throughout his body. In the corner of his eye, he can see Naruto flinch under the glare of the lights.

“Is this gonna hurt?” he asks timidly. Temari, who’s currently holding his hand, giggles.

“You’ll be fine. No one has ever died getting a tattoo. At least, I haven’t heard about it.” She pats his hand as her way of encouraging him.

Naruto frowns. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to get it now. Just wait until Gaara gets back from the convention.”

“No. I’ll lose my nerve. Besides, I trust Pein.” Naruto winks at him as he turns away to sterilize the needle. Pein can’t imagine how or why Naruto already trusts him since they’ve only known each other for two weeks; their conversations sporadically timed and short at best. Though, he guesses he ‘likes’ Naruto. Even though he’s loud and obnoxious, he’s amiable when he wants to be. He’s also very open, and Pein has always admired that trait in anyone because he’s never opened up to anyone before and probably never will.

The bell chimes at the front door as a customer walks in. Temari quirks her lips to the side in apology. “Sorry, Naruto. I gotta go tend to them.”

“Where’s Kankuro when you need him?” Naruto pleads, shielding his eyes with an arm.

“I told you. He’s driving Gaara back from the convention.” Temari runs her fingers through Naruto’s blond hair. “Just take a deep breath. Pein’s known for his soft touch, anyway.” She winks at him before making her way out of Pein’s allotted cubicle, leaving him with a very jittery Naruto.

Pein goes back to preparing the needle, half-listening to Naruto’s strange rambles.

“It looks like it’s gonna hurt. Like, _really_ hurt. Am I the only one who’s freaked out before the needle’s gone in? Well, of course not.” Naruto chuckles nervously. “You’ve probably dealt with all kinds of weirdoes like me, huh?”

Pein disregards his babble as he swipes some disinfectant over Naruto’s stomach. He also disregards the blond and subtle happy trail leading from Naruto’s belly button to his pants.

"Holy shit, that's cold!" Naruto exhales a breath as he places his arms behind his back and closes his eyes, scrunching them. “You can do this. Deep breaths. Just like taking a dick– the bigger it is, the more you relax.”

Pein just stares at him, and by the look on Naruto’s face, he looks like he didn’t mean to say whatever he just did either, so he doesn’t comment on it. Really, though. Naruto’s analogy baffles the mind.

“What? Talking like this helps me!” Naruto tries to play it off. “Don’t you have some words of advice? Anything at all?”

Pein tries to think of one as he leisurely prepares the outline. He figures Naruto wants as much time to mentally prepare himself as possible. “It hurts more on bony areas.” It’s not really advice, but it’s the best that he can do.

Naruto sighs. “So it’s not gonna hurt or anything? On my stomach, I mean?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Wait, so, like, you numb it first, right?”

Pein approaches where Naruto lays, needle in hand.

“Whoa! Easy there… Can you, like, tell me what you’ll be doing? Shit.” It’s not even begun, and Naruto’s already sweating bullets, that much Pein can tell. He decides to try and alleviate Naruto’s nerves in the best way he can.

“Do you need me to hold your hand?” he jokes.

Naruto relaxes a bit under his gloved hands and smirks, which tells him he’s accomplished what he set out to do. “Are you being sassy with me, Pein?”

He doesn’t answer and instead brings the needle closer to Naruto’s stomach. “This might sting.”

The sound of the needle vibrating drowns out Naruto’s voice as he shouts obscenities. “Damn! That hurts like a bitch!” Naruto bites his bottom lip, as he covers his eyes with his arm again, hiding the tears threatening to spill out. “Is it too late to accept your offer?” Pein fights the urge to grin.

After a while, Naruto begins to relax, though his body still remains rigid. He’s still mumbling things, and if he really wants to make conversation with Pein, he has to yell above the noise of the needle. Pein has to reevaluate whether Naruto’s gotten over the pain or if he’s a masochist. To further prove his point, Naruto tries to converse with him again.

“So, do you like to do this?”

Pein knows that Naruto is referring to tattooing. He shrugs. “It pays the bills.”

“So you don’t?” he shouts over the continuous vibrations.

“I didn’t say that.”

Naruto hisses as Pein drags the ink around his belly button. “You’re really vague. Vaguer than Gaara, and that’s saying something. Wait, is that a word?”

“What is?”

“Vaguer.”

“Probably.”

Naruto groans as the needle touches something a little more sensitive. “Can you _please_ talk? It helps a lot.” 

Pein licks at his snake bites out of habit and Naruto catches it. He finds that oddly hot. “Talking will hurt more for you than for me,” Pein tries to convince him.

“But it really helps!” Naruto whines, some tears already falling. He doesn’t even attempt to swipe them away, fearful that if he moves it could possibly mess up Pein’s handwork.

Pein sighs. He’s not much of a talker, but Naruto’s a customer, and he has to be as hospitable as possible. Besides, he considers Naruto his friend, and he’s sure Naruto thinks the same of him, so out of duty as his friend and as his tattooist, he will try to make this experience as pleasant as possible, even if Naruto makes fun of him for trying so earnestly.

“What do you do for a living?” This is the best thing he can come up with in all the five minutes he spent trying to think about it.

Naruto is silent for a while. “Well… I sell my body.”

Now Pein understands why. He tries to mull it over for a while, tries to make sense of what Naruto has just told him. For all he knows, Naruto could be joking. He really wouldn’t put it past him to do something like this. But the look on Naruto’s face screams authenticity, of raw honesty, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. What does Naruto want him to do with this information if it _is_ true? For all Naruto knows, he could go to the police right after this job and sell him out, _literally._ Does Naruto trust him this much?

“No comment?” Naruto cracks a grin, as pained as it is.

“Should I make one?”

Naruto laughs and immediately regrets it. “I don’t know. Like, no disgust? Not even wonder?”

Pein grins at him. “Not particularly.”

“Okay, then what gets you to run your mouth a mile?”

“Nothing really does,” Pein answers honestly.

“Do you sing?” Pein has to pause to understand what he’s just been asked. “’cause I think your voice would be pretty damn sexy.”

Pein smiles. “Having a nice voice doesn’t guarantee a good singing voice.”

Naruto cocks an eyebrow at him, cheeky and all-around mischievous. “Then how about a voice in the throes of passion?”

Again, Pein has to pause and weigh Naruto’s words on his mental scale. Is that a proposition?

“You want to have sex with me.” The words kind of just leave his mouth before he can stop them. Before he can reevaluate his life choices, question his existence, and obliterate said existence, Naruto smiles at him again.

“Well, I _am_ wondering if those piercings go any lower. Do they?” Naruto gives him a ‘look,’ one that he isn’t very familiar with since it’s never been aimed at him before, but he surmises that it’s a titillating one, a face he’s seen in countless pirated American-Action films.

Pein doesn’t know what to say. All he knows is that he’s curious and he wants to know what else Naruto can teach him with expression alone. “… Maybe,” he dismissively comments.

Naruto winks at him. “I look forward to finding out.”

*

The first week had been hell. Naruto could barely move, could barely even _breathe_ without agitating his tattoo in the process, so he had to take a few days off. Scratch that, _a lot_ of days off. Flexing his stomach in any way had been out of the question, and the best he could’ve done for Pein after propositioning him was a hand job, which is pretty low for Naruto. Luckily, Pein is still willing to make another appointment with him in the near future, which is great because just as he had thought, Pein’s piercings definitely extend below the waistline. He can’t wait to try them out.

By the end of the second week, Naruto is able to do mundane things, like masturbating. Really, being deprived of any sexual activity is hell when one is so used to getting them every other night. Thankfully, he and Itachi have a date tonight in one of the hotel suites before he has to go off on some trip to America or something.

Naruto’s robes pool around his hips and legs as he’s straddled on Itachi’s lap, pushing up for a slow rise and fall. He can feel the gentle, guiding grip of Itachi’s hands on his hips, the soft whisper of his thumbs against the edges of his tattoo. It doesn’t hurt. Actually, he really likes it. He speeds up a bit.

“Don’t rush,” Itachi tells him as he kisses Naruto’s collarbone. “I won’t leave till morning.”

“We can rush. That way, we can have as many rounds as we want,” Naruto breathes against his ear as he wraps his legs around Itachi’s waist and attempts to quicken his pace, to get more of that delicious friction, but Itachi has a firm hold on him, and he’s not letting him move. Naruto is reminded that this is not his call, but rather, Itachi’s, no matter how close or well-acquainted they are.  “Mm, Itachi…”

Itachi begins to move against him, slow as it is, and Naruto throws his head back at a particular thrust, at how _deep_ Itachi can carve into his body. He presses closer, his nipples stiff and raw as they rub against Itachi’s chest, whines smothered by Itachi’s shoulder as his hard cock is stroked in a maniacally fast pace in contrast to the thrusts. It makes his back bend, and it makes him want to scream because this is a portion of the pleasure he could be receiving if only Itachi would fuck him like he usually does. “ _Aaah,_ ” he breathes out, feeling his body coil like wire, but never closer to breaking, never splintering. He’s a slow, viscous substance, pliable and bendable, and this makes him mewl again because he’s so far away from fragmenting and snapping at the splits.

He’s placed in a tug of war between heaven and hell, and he doesn’t know which one he likes better. Naruto just wants more of it, more of what Itachi can give him, more of _Itachi._ He’s a man full of contradictions that constantly fills him with it, because he’s in _so much_ pain, but it isn’t painful at all.

It isn’t painful at all.

*

When Naruto wakes up, Itachi has already left for his flight. The only thing he’s left behind is a note saying that room service will come up around nine, so he’d better get dressed soon. At any other time, he would’ve ignored this and gone back to sleep, but he really feels gross after not having showered the previous night, no matter how well Itachi might’ve cleaned him up.

After making the bed a little more presentable, he tosses his clothes into the washing machine and then hops into the shower. He’s so damn glad that this suite has washing machines. Before, he’d always have to hoof it back to his apartment in his dirty clothes, and no matter how hard he scrubs before getting in them, he always feels the need to shower again, and that really didn’t make looking at his water bill a pleasant experience.

He’s red and steaming when he exits the shower, and almost freaks out when he thinks there’s a huge pimple on his forehead. It turns out that it was just a speck on the mirror.

Naruto’s disappointed when he leaves the bathroom because the washing machine isn’t done yet, no matter how much time he purposefully spent in the shower. He sighs.

He just hopes that room service doesn’t decide to come up five minutes early because there’s no way he’ll be able to cover his ass up with anything. He guesses he could use the blankets if worse comes to worse, but those were dirty, and he’d rather not use them. For now, the towel would suffice, which is a godsend too, because room service apparently decided that it was going to come ten minutes early instead.

There had been no time to prepare himself for its arrival because the damn maid didn’t even deign to knock. “Uh, hey!” he yells out as he dashes to the bedroom. “Don’t come in here! I’m naked!” He shuts the door behind him, but immediately, as if in retaliation, it is yanked back open. “Hey...” he starts, but his words immediately die out. He’s filled with rage and venom, and he doesn’t hesitate to make this known because the one guy he never wanted to see again is right in front of him. “Duck-butt,” Naruto hisses.

“Whore,” the Itachi look-a-like spits back at him. “I warned you about coming back.”

Naruto glares heatedly. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a rebel.” He grabs the door and tugs it out of Sasuke’s grasp. “I think you should leave, ass-wipe.”

Sasuke looks unimpressed as he pushes at the door and consequentially pushes Naruto back with it. “I don’t know if you’re brave or if you’re just simply a moron, but you need to know your place, whore. You’re in _my_ territory and I suggest that _you_ leave.”

Naruto rights himself and harrumphs. “Look, what’s your problem? This isn’t even any of your business.”

At this, Sasuke’s eyes morph into something colder, sinister, and Naruto has a hard time not flinching away from it. “And whose business would this be?” His voice is calculating, a threat, and Naruto doesn’t know why, but it almost seems like he’s testing Naruto.

Well, challenge accepted. “It’s between me and Itachi. Get it through your fucking skull.”

Sasuke laughs, no, he guffaws, because this bimbo broke Itachi’s image. That reflection in the mirror now has a crack, and no matter how hard Sasuke tries to mend it, he will always see those imperfect fractures. “Show me,” he hisses out.

“What?” Naruto asks incredulously, feeling immediate fear engulf his very being.

“I said _show me_ ,” Sasuke demands as he lunges for his throat and pushes them toward the bed. They both tumble onto the mattress as Naruto struggles out of his choking grip. “Show me what the hell’s so good about your body that my brother always needs you to fuck out his problems. Hmph, maybe you’ll help me out too.” Sasuke looks smug as he says this, all pretty and shiny like an apple, but it’s deadly and rotten, and Naruto feels the poison seeping into his mouth as Sasuke forces him to obey.

“Get the fuck _off_ me!”

“Heh, you are one picky whore. Does Itachi treat you gently? Or does he pay by the thousands to get you to submit?”

When Naruto has enough room to move, he flips them over so that Sasuke is lying flat against the bed. Instantly, he backs away and to the door as he clutches at his throat, towel be damned. “You _asshole!_ I consent to the people who _fuck_ me! Just because I’m a sex worker doesn’t mean you can manhandle me in any way you like! Are you fucking twelve?”

Sasuke scoffs, wiping at his bottom lip, a bit of blood leaving traces on his finger. “That’s rich coming from you. Let me tell you something.” He stands to his feet as he walks closer to crowd him. “You’re nothing but a money-hungry low-life who raises his ass for anything he can scrounge. Don’t use euphemisms to make yourself feel better.”

Naruto doesn’t look away. He’s been told this many times already. It won’t affect him. _Itwon’taffecthim itwon’taffecthim itwon’t–_ “Hmph. Like I haven’t been told that fifty fucking times already,” he spits out. He tries to convince himself that his eyes don’t sting. “And I bet you I’ll meet more assholes like you down the line. But guess what? You can do _jack_ shit. Your brother and I won’t end until he says so. So sorry, but you’ll probably be seeing more of me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but those eyes don’t lie. He’s seething and boiling inside, and if Naruto doesn’t get out of here soon, he doesn’t know what will happen, and he doubts this asshole will know either. “I’m getting my shit and leaving,” Naruto mumbles as he opens the door.

Again, Sasuke says nothing and he makes no indication that he even cares.

Then Naruto feels his arm grabbed before he can make it out of the room.

“I’ll make you regret ever meeting my brother.”

“But your brother won’t regret meeting me, and that’s all that matters.”

With that, Naruto leaves donned in sopping-wet clothes, and he doesn’t give a shit if he turns into an icicle once he goes outside.

_Challenge accepted, dick-face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke, you are an asshole.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WATCH as the characters progressively get more and more OOC *cries*

Naruto finds himself on a bed that is not his own, but that’s fairly common in his line of work. Body to his right or left– or both, depending on what his customer’s kinks are – but today, or rather, this morning, the body is to his right, and it is specifically Kakashi’s. That’s all well and good, since Kakashi is finally getting the hours of sleep he needs (without his darned mask on, to boot) but the man at the foot of the bed, gawking at their naked bodies, makes his blood run cold and kills his morning wood.

The man’s creepily focused eyes zero in on his face, and there’s nowhere for Naruto to hide. He guesses he could roll under the blankets, but it’d be at the cost of yanking it out of Kakashi’s hand and he hasn’t figured out if he should wake him up or not. He appraises the man currently staring daggers at Kakashi’s bed, and surmises that this man hasn’t gotten any sleep either and looks eerily familiar. Dawning arises in him.

“Ah, you’re that Yakamoto guy!” he blurts out. He covers his big mouth. So much for keeping it down. Now Kakashi’s rousing from his sleep and to say that his editor’s eyes had been wide would be an injustice to how _freakishly_ wide it is now because Kakashi finds it the perfect opportunity to smother Naruto with kisses so early in the morning. “Ugh, get off! Your breath stinks!” He tries to fend him off but to no avail. Any minute now his editor will probably keel over, and the day hasn’t even started.

“Mm, just five more minutes… I’ll get up…” Kakashi mutters as he continuously showers Naruto with more kisses.

“Something _else_ is up!” Naruto hisses into his ear as he tugs at the blanket to cover Kakashi’s imminent bulge. “Think of your grandma quick, ‘cause your editor’s here.”

At this, Kakashi’s grogginess instantly dissipates, though it still takes time for him to process that yes, his editor is very much witnessing his debaucheries, that he’s possibly coming up with all kinds of conclusions to fill the missing gaps of the story, and that yes, they are both very much naked, all of his goodies being put on frontal display for his lovely editor. 

Well, since the cat is out of the bag, there’d be no sense in trying to cover it up, figuratively and literally. He throws Yamato a peace-sign. “Morning, Yamato.”

Yamato blinks out of his owlish gaze at the call of his name, red quickly conquering the whites of his face. He clears his throat. “Kakashi-sensei. Morning to you.” He bows his head earnestly, and it makes Naruto snicker into his hand. “Ah!” he exclaims. “To your lover, as well.” At this, Naruto and Kakashi share a look, but synonymously decide to take it in stride. The less explanations needed, the better. “I’m sorry for intruding on your…” Yamato waves his hand in the air, as if doing so will afford him an appropriate euphemism.

“Sexy time?” Kakashi bluntly inputs. Yamato clears his throat again, and straightens himself out, unbothered by Kakashi’s frankness. Naruto can tell that they’ve been working together for a long time.

“I was going to say your day off. If you have any plans for today, they’ll have to be cancelled unfortunately.” Yamato looks sincerely apologetic, and Naruto has to wonder how many times this has happened in the past. Kakashi looks unfazed as he adjusts his mask over the lower portion of his face.

“Nah, I have nothing to do besides _him_ today.” Kakashi cocks his head at Naruto. Naruto ignores the comment as he kicks the Sailor Moon outfit and wig on the floor under the bed and shimmies into one of Kakashi’s PJs. Yamato has the mind to turn away and focus on Kakashi instead, though Naruto doesn’t know why since they all have the same equipment. “So, what they want me to do now?”

“They want the manuscript handed in a week early if it’s close to finished.”

“How early?”

“By Saturday.”

Kakashi hums in thought as he passes Yamato by the door and automatically heads off to the kitchen for his morning coffee.  Yamato intercepts him at the coffee maker before Kakashi can press any button on it. “They’ll pay you extra for handing it in.”

“Well then that solves it.” Even from where Naruto sits at the dining table, he can tell that Kakashi’s smile is forced underneath that mask. Yamato raises an eyebrow, waiting for the punch line. “I guess I won’t be handing the manuscript in early after all. That extra money can be given to some other starving mangaka.” And there went the punch line.

Yamato’s not having any of it. Luckily for Kakashi, he gets to take time off for a whole two weeks for handing in all the overdue manuscripts he had, but for Yamato, he has to stay on for another week, and besides just having to leaf through every fucking paper in sole existence because everyone else is off too, he has to constantly hear his boss’s complaints about Kakashi’s damn manuscript. He _will_ make Kakashi hand this in early. If not for his health’s sake, then surely for Kakashi’s innards’ sake.

Kakashi seems to have gotten the message, if Yamato goes by his nervous mannerisms. He realizes he’s been holding Kakashi by the collar, all the while giving him a one-sided blinking contest, so he lets him go, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll be expecting that manuscript at my door by tomorrow.”

“Ehe, about that. It’s close to finished, but only if my helpers are around. As you can see for yourself, there are _zero_ helpers here today,” Kakashi informs.

“Aren’t any of them available?”

“Not for another two weeks, unfortunately.”

Yamato sighs and Naruto can see how weary he looks, how downtrodden. He quirks his lips, thinking that this guy really needs some sleep, then shrugs his shoulders. Well, he has nothing to do today anyway– besides Kakashi, as he had so eloquently put it. “I can help,” he chirps. Yamato instantly brightens. Naruto can’t recall anyone looking so relieved.

But the eccentricity fades as quickly as it came with Yamato bowing his head again. “Kakashi-sensei surely can’t impose on his own lover.”

Naruto waves his hand. “Oh, he imposes all the time. Impose away.”

Kakashi directs Naruto one of his trademark I’ll-get-you-for-this smiles. “While that certainly can be arranged, one helper won’t suffice. Sorry, Yamato, but...”

“I’ll help out, too. I _do_ hope that _that_ will be enough.” Yamato gives him that look again, and even though it’s not directed at him, Naruto can feel those familiar shivers wrack his body. With no room for rebuttal, Kakashi drags his feet to the study and sets up to finish the remaining scenes. Naruto passes by him and slaps his ass, glad that the smack isn’t hard enough for Yamato to hear, but hard enough to startle Kakashi, which is rare in itself.

He saves the celebratory dance for later. “Hey,” he whispers. “Buy me breakfast and we’ll call it even.”

“Fine, fine. Ramen again, I’m sure.”

“Don’t complain. You brought this on yourself.” Naruto sticks his tongue out and Kakashi pokes at his forehead in retaliation. “Hey! That hurt!”

“The truth often hurts.”

“Shut up. Oh, by the way, does he always do that?” Naruto mutters below his breath, watching Yamato flit around by the back, fervently searching through folders.

Kakashi looks up from the sorted files. “You mean the creepy-eye-stare thing?”

“Yeah, that thing.”

Kakashi cringes. “You should see him during Valentine’s day issues.”

“Nah, I’ll pass.”

“You’re missing _ouuut,_ ” Kakashi sing-songs as he begins to trace his outline with pen. Knowing that Kakashi will soon begin to tune any and everything out, Naruto sits himself at one of the desk tables dispersed throughout the room in neat rows, then cracks his knuckles. He hasn’t done this in a long time.

Yamato approaches his desk with a labeled manila folder. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Actually, no. I do this pretty often.” Extra pay is always a plus.

Yamato finds this very distressing, apparently. “You mean Kakashi-sensei forces you to work for him frequently?”

He almost bursts into laughter at how accurate Yamato describes it, but he just shrugs. “Eh, only during deadlines.”

Yamato swiftly bows. “I am very sorry that you have to do work that is not your own.”

Naruto scratches the back of his neck anxiously. “No, no. It’s cool.” Really. The extra pay really comes in handy sometimes. Particularly when he wants to buy himself some bunny mooncakes and the time for his rent money is upon him.

After some more bowing and finally some urging from Kakashi, Yamato settles himself a seat away and begins applying the screen tone while Naruto cuts them out. He’s glad for it because then he doesn’t have to paste patterns over boobs and vaginas. That job had always been left to him because everyone else was working on something cooler.

It turns out that Kakashi isn’t able to buy Naruto breakfast, but rather, dinner because they don’t finish till late into the evening. Fortunately, Yamato is comforted enough with the fact that Kakashi’s manuscript is ready to be handed in early, so he leaves. At this point, Naruto is starving for two things– food and Kakashi, but since they’re both so worn out by simply sitting the entire day, they just order out.

But then delivery will take some time. Naruto _guesses_ he can have Kakashi now rather than later. Luckily for him, Kakashi had been thinking the same thing.

*

“Tell me why I have to do this again?”

Naruto stretches languidly on the bed, admiring its satiny texture. He should really buy some for his own bed, but he always forgets to.

Shikamaru sighs, lowering the camera from his face and smoothing through his spiky hair. “I told you. The art club’s looking for some models to draw. No one has volunteered yet, so they asked me to scope out some willing participants.”

“Then just let me go to your school and pose away.”

“It’s a way for students to earn volunteer hours. You’re not a student.”

“So, why are you taking pictures of me?”

Shikamaru fiddles with the lens on his camera, hoping that there isn’t a crack there. “Models on pictures don’t matter. Besides, it’ll earn me a little extra cash.” At this, Naruto shoots up from his laying position, and crawls to where Shikamaru is at the foot of the bed. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna split it. Geez.” Naruto smiles.

“You know me so well.”

“I think _too_ well sometimes.” Naruto laughs as he traces lines over Shikamaru’s chest. Shikamaru frowns as he takes a picture of Naruto’s face, the flash causing him to flinch away. “That wasn’t an invitation, you nymphomaniac.”

Naruto harrumphs and pouts petulantly. “You’re so much nicer when we’re doing it.”

“Thank the hormones,” Shikamaru robotically comments as he begins snapping pictures again. “Naruto, turn this way.”

Naruto shoots him a glare, but it’s a glare that melts away instantly because Shikamaru decides to get on the bed with him and Naruto finds it more intimate this way, even if they’re not touching. He lies back down again, and looks straight into the camera, all coy and inviting. This isn’t the first time Shikamaru’s taken pictures of his naked body. Granted, Shikamaru is only taking pictures of his upper half, and his groin is covered by the blanket to make it more school-appropriate, but he’s used to this.

“Naruto, stop looking at the camera like that. This is for school, remember?”

“Oh, was I looking at the camera a certain way? I didn’t realize,” Naruto drones sarcastically. “School can’t handle a bit of seduction?”

“You’re just a camera-whore,” Shikamaru jibes.

Naruto scoffs. “So what? You like it when I’m like this, so who’s the perv now?”

“Just you.” Shikamaru grins as he peruses through all the photos so far. He’s got over thirty, a third of which are of Naruto giving the camera bedroom eyes. He won’t delete them. He’ll just have to make sure that they’re not on the memory card when he hands it in. “Anyway, we’re done here. I have enough pictures.”

“All right, cool! Let’s go eat something!” Naruto stretches his arms over his head, and then slides off of the bed to tug some clothes on.

“No ramen,” Shikamaru immediately vetoes before Naruto can get a word in edge-wise.

Naruto’s jaw drops. “Why!”

“Don’t want it. Besides, I have coupons for Gyoza Chouza.”

Naruto’s eyes light up. “Yes! Let’s go! What are you waiting for?” He dashes to the door and speeds down the stairs from his bedroom. Shikamaru is left with more than a little headache, but he can’t find it in himself to be irritated. Naruto’s just a bright ball of sunshine, and he doesn’t ever want to be the one to extinguish it. He hopes it never extinguishes, for that matter.

After wrapping his favorite scarf around his neck and locking up, they brave through the cold and weave through the city. Naruto stuffs one of his hands into his pockets, and squeezes his other hand between Shikamaru’s body and his arm. He shivers. “Ooh, so toasty and warm.”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “We’re almost there, you big baby.”

Naruto chuckles. “So, how come you’re trying to earn extra money? Doesn’t ‘Papa General,’” Naruto quotes, “give you your daily allowance?”

Shikamaru shrugs. “Can’t rely on my old man forever. I’ll graduate eventually, but after that, he won’t be so generous.”

Naruto cocks his head in wonder. He doesn’t understand why something can’t be worked out. Then again, Shikamaru spends most of that cash paying Naruto, so he can’t say anything. He guesses if he were a father, he’d find it weird that his own son spends a hundred or more of his expenses on something that doesn’t pertain to bills.

When they make it inside, Ino is there to greet them with a brilliant smile. “Shikamaru, Naruto! How’ve ya been?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Starving.”

Ino giggles. “Same table, then?” Naruto and Shikamaru follow after her, despite knowing where to go already. As they scoot into their presented booth, Ino hands them both menus. “Water for both, right?” She’s already writing it down before they can say anything.

Naruto smiles. “Where’s Chouji?”

“Oh, Chouza had to go to this meeting or something. So he’s head chef right now,” Ino answers as she tucks her notepad in her waist apron.

“Where are the brats?” Shikamaru asks.

Ino grins. “Where else? They’re out back, probably up to no good again.” To prove her point, shattering glass accompanied with a heavy thud alerts everyone in the restaurant. “I’ll be right back with your water, gentlemen,” she grits out.

As Ino scurries to check the damage, Naruto laughs. “How _are_ those two doing?”

“You mean the twins? Bratty and annoying, just like any other kid.” Shikamaru shakes his head. “I don’t know how Ino does it.”

“Don’t you babysit them sometimes?”

“Every now and then. It’s a pain in the ass.”

After some more crashes and a bit of yelling, Ino comes back around, water in hand, looking a bit frazzled and hair in disarray. She sets it down in front of them. “Here you are. Ready to order?” Naruto can see how exasperated she looks.

Shikamaru raises an eyebrow. “What happened back there?”

Ino sighs. “Choin was trying to grab some snacks from the pantry, so Inocho hoisted him up. Now there’s rice and oil over the floor.”

“Ah, are they okay?”

“Eh, just some cuts and bruises here and there. Of course, Chouji freaked out, but they’ve handled worse.”

Shikamaru harrumphs. “How old are those two again?”

“Six. Seven by next week.”

“Holding a party?”

“Well, Chouji and I are thinking about it.”

Naruto claps his hands. “Ooh, do it! It’ll be lots of fun!”

“We’ve been really busy lately. We’ll be lucky to even have an open slot.”

Naruto hums in understanding as he bobs his head. “Tell you what–- find a free day, then Shika can take the twins out while you guys get everything ready! It’ll be a surprise.”

“Whoa. Who said I was taking them out?”

Naruto raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“’cause I got stuff to do.”

“Like what? Sleep?” Naruto challenges him.

Shikamaru sighs as he rubs at his temples. “Fine. You win. But you’re taking them out with me.”

“Deal.”

Ino laughs as she tugs on her notepad. “As glad as I am that you two are planning my sons’ birthdays, I need to get back to work. Have you two decided?”

“I guess we’ll just get the same thing as always,” Shikamaru informs. “Also,” he digs in his pocket, “I got these coupons. I think you could put them to better use.”

“Awesome,” she mumbles as she writes their orders down, takes their menus, then takes the coupons. She scrutinizes them and quirks her lips. “These are expired, Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru clicks his tongue. “Damn. I thought those were still good.”

Ino laughs and waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t even worry about it. I got you.” She winks at them as she walks away to give her note to Chouji.

While they wait, the two of them talk about the photos again and how Shikamaru will most likely use them for jack material. What Naruto finds the funniest is that he doesn’t even care to deny it, but after a few laughs here and there they fall into silence, languorously sipping on their water. Naruto begins to blow bubbles in his, and Shikamaru is just happy to tune it out. Then he sees a smile on Naruto’s face and he has to wonder why. He voices it so.

“What are you smiling about?”

Naruto giggles as he props his chin on a hand. “I’m really excited about next week. I’ve never seen you hang out with the kids before.”

“You see it all the time. What’re you talking about?”

“No, like, when it’s _just_ you and the kids. I think it’ll be fun.”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “You think everything is fun. Besides, it’s nothing special. I buy them ice cream, they shut up, and then I take them to the park where they can play in the sand to their hearts’ content.”

“Aww, that’s sho cute,” Naruto teases.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shikamaru waves off.

Still, no matter how much Shikamaru tries to dismiss how much he cares for the little tyrants, he knows he cares. He can’t wait to rub this fact in his face next week.

*

Itachi stares out the window as he waits for the stewardess to get to his seat for his drink. He can’t stop thinking about Sasuke and how distant he’s been lately. Obviously, he’s been avoiding him like the plague, and no matter how much he subtly prods him to tell him why, Sasuke won’t budge. This has never happened before.

Could he have heard of some ridiculous rumors? Of him fraternizing with his employees? Such accusations are ludicrous and he can’t imagine Sasuke even giving it a second thought. So what is it? Why is his brother acting so different and _suspicious?_

Then the thought comes to him.

“Sir, your drink?” the stewardess repeats as she waits for his answer. He nods and she places it in front of him.

“Can I have some soda? Sprite would be good,” Deidara, one of his branch managers, asks. The stewardess nods and goes back to retrieve it. Deidara sighs and relaxes against his seat. He looks at Itachi and frowns. “Hey, it might not be my place to ask, but are you all right? You've been spacing out this whole time.”

“I was… thinking of a riddle Sasori told me,” he lies.

“Oh, did you figure it out?” Deidara inquires.

Itachi looks out his window again. “I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing REALLY happened in this chapter (cough, sorry) I just wanted to introduce more characters *shame shame shame*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehe, haven't been able to update much because I just got a guitar. Fingers hurt like hell for a while. I want to also thank my brother o0kaymawn0o for helping me out with the dialogue again. It helped SO much on my writer's block, youhavenoidea. Shout-out to my homedawg, Ashley. She helped too :D

“Damn it,” he hisses, his breath white in the air as he shoves all the scratch tickets into a nearby bin. Naruto hates those fucking tickets, but he buys them anyway because he’s stupid and possibly a masochist. All he wants to win is that ten-pound supply of special ramen. He’s already bought five tickets today, but all he keeps getting are empty slots or dollar rewards. Well, he’ll come back again tomorrow. Hopefully, Lady Luck will have chosen him as her next hapless companion.

He shivers erratically as a gust of wind manages to seep through his crimson-red Eskimo jacket and two ugly sweaters. Though, he will admit that they _are_ comfortable. One of the sweaters is pink and hangs loosely on his frame, but shit, it had only been 900 yen, and the other one’s a hideous Grinch-green with something English written on it. He didn’t bother to translate it. All he knows is that he won’t be showcasing it anywhere, so there’d be no use in trying.

When he feels something light land on his numb nose, he pulls at his brown beanie and sprints under an awning. No way in hell is he getting caught in another snow drizzle, not with these cool designer glasses he’s got on. It’s a fucking pain to wipe off anything on the lens, frozen water or not. He slumps against the wall behind him, and then realizes that it’s actually glass. He notices that it’s a new building, what with it being empty but still spic and span.

He wonders what it’ll be filled with. Food? Maybe another clothing brand? He just shrugs. Either way, he can still use the glass as a makeshift mirror to fix his bangs because that previous gust of wind swept it all to the side, and now it just looks ridiculous. He licks at his fingers before tousling it to and fro. He’ll just have to manage with spit alone since he doesn’t have any gel handy.

*

It’s Sasuke’s day off, which is fucking great because he feels like the production is sapping away all his strength, and leaving behind nothing. It doesn’t help that Itachi’s back from his trip. He thought it would help him cool down; to have his brother leave for about a week, but the silence just made it harder to forget. Now that he’s back, he doesn’t quite know where he stands. The only saving grace is that Itachi’s been normal, amiable. He hasn’t brought it up.

Sasuke’s still trying to figure out if that’s a good thing.

Other than that, he’s simmered down. He’s not as impulsive as he was a few weeks ago. Still infuriated, but not to the point that he’ll choke a man into submission, like he did to that prostitute. He doesn’t regret it, because rarely does he ever regret his actions, but that hadn’t been something he planned. He had only gone to see if Itachi had left. _Maybe_ he had also gone as early as he could to possibly catch his brother in the act so that the confrontation could be dealt with.

But, no. His brother had left earlier than he expected, and the only residue he had left behind of his presence was the prostitute, hickies and all. That time, he’d been different though. The whore was less false bravado, like he had been before, and more genuine brazenness. He hadn’t expected this, and since he hadn’t, he couldn’t have taken it into account and therefore couldn’t have played it out through his head.

Sasuke’s a tactician. He thinks things through before executing anything, but this mere prostitute has thrown a wrench in his gears, and he hasn’t quite removed it yet.  But he will.

He hasn’t figured it out, but that can certainly be arranged.

Then he sees a familiar figure up ahead, blond tufts tucked into a worn beanie with a blaring Eskimo jacket, wiping something off of his teeth with a gloved hand, only to spit it out.

Well, he wasn’t expecting to see him again so soon, but he’s always been notorious for his improvisational skills, on and off the stage.

*

“Hey, you.”

Naruto pauses in cleaning his teeth, and turns around, not quite able to see the stranger’s reflection. Just when he’s beginning to think it’s the manager of the building, prepared to kick him off the property, he recognizes the duck-butt hair, the soulless eyes, and the embedded frown that makes children cry. “Ah,” he begins, for lack of better wording, tongue caught to the roof of his mouth, and finger left half-assedly pointing in mid-air. He’s speechless, because one, he forgot that this guy lives in Tokyo like him, making it a possibility to bump into each other at some random walkway (but come on, that’s a chance out of 13 million), and two, _he_ was the one approached on this random walkway. He must’ve just picked the wrong straw today.

“Hey,” he says again, and Naruto can’t believe his ears. Is that his way of acting civilized? Like any other human being?

Naruto quirks his lips to the side, unimpressed. Just because he doesn’t use derogatory terms to call him out, doesn’t mean that the guy’s all of a sudden _nice._ “Asshole,” he addresses him. It earns him a few glances from passersby, but he shakes it off.

Duck-butt harrumphs. “Could you be any more discreet?” he delivers sardonically.

“Nope. Everyone needs to know what an asshole you are.” Naruto smirks, crossing his arms.

Duck-butt doesn’t bristle. “Everyone also needs to know how much of a whore you are, but I’m not disclosing it.”

Naruto glares at him, shifting his weight to one foot to level him out. “Hey, what I do is none of anyone’s business. I wasn’t born into this lifestyle. But… being an asshole? That’s just something you’re born with, duck-butt.”

“Then logic is clearly something _you_ weren’t born with,” he rebukes, and it makes something flare in Naruto’s stomach. Might be because he still hasn’t eaten any breakfast or lunch, but right now, he’s just going to treat it as a side effect of his irritation.

“Is that the best you can come up with, asshole?” Naruto almost feels like lecturing this guy, but he won’t because then he’d probably lose at whatever this is. “You’re the same blood as Itachi. With him and his _devilish_ tongue, you should be able to come up with something better.”

Sasuke grimaces, images he’d rather do without filling his mind. “That’s disgusting.”

“To you, probably. Now leave me the hell alone, before I make the loss of your virginity seem like a barely-there handjob underneath a table.” Naruto pulls at his sleeve, wondering how it even fell in the first place as he turns on his heel to leave.

“What does that even mean?” Sasuke is confused. _Very_ confused.

“It means what it means, bastard! Now get lost!” he all but squeals.

Duck-butt smirks. “Your vocabulary gets more colorful by the minute.”

“Fine. If your ugly mug won’t get lost, _I_ will,” Naruto seethes, pulling down at his beanie again to fix it in place. But a simple “Wait,” from duck-butt impedes his step, and Naruto _really_ wants to leave before this becomes a recurring thing. He looks over his shoulder, probably a little too dramatically. “ _What?_ ” he grits out. “Oh, you wanna see what keeps your brother coming back for more?”

“ _No._ Stop talking about that!”

Naruto is shocked, but only for a moment. That remark sounded like it had come out of a kid’s mouth. He doesn’t laugh though. He’s not _that_ mean. 

Duck-butt sighs, smoothing through his dark hair, and consequentially swiping the smirk off Naruto’s face and making him jealous, because hair that silky shouldn’t be natural. “I need to take you somewhere.”

Naruto narrows his eyes, inching away ever so slowly. “What’s with the niceties? I don’t get it. Also, how am I going to be sure that you won’t report me? Or _murder_ me, in fact?” Suspicious, indeed. If Naruto had a beard, he’d be stroking it right now. The issue is that his body hates him. It doesn’t produce facial hair, apparently, or if it does, he can barely make it out. It’s a sore issue he’s always had with his genetics.

“Ugh, just follow me.”

“ _No._ You can’t make me.”

Sasuke feels like he’s dealing with a toddler, but he’s going to be _nice._ That’s what he promised himself. “I’ll buy you coffee.”

This piques Naruto’s interests.

“I’ll even add in a meal. Besides, do you want to stay out here? You’ll be soaked.” He gestures to their surroundings, people dashing here and there with suitcases or umbrellas over their heads as they fight the slow onslaught of falling snow.

Naruto considers him. “Are you _bribing_ me with food and shelter?”

Sasuke blinks at him. That’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? He’s not quite sure what to say, for once.

“’cause if you are, it’s _totally_ working. So where’s this place you wanna show me?”

Sasuke doesn’t know what to say. _Again._ He didn’t expect it to be this easy. But, well, he’ll go with it, he guesses. Sasuke cocks his head to his left, and he follows. They scurry under the limited awnings of Tokyo, and every now and then, Sasuke has to glance behind him to see if the prostitute’s following.

“So, hey, what even _is_ your name?” the prostitute asks, struggling to catch up with all the people he bumps into. Now that he thinks about it, this guy has only been calling him ‘duck-butt’ or whatever else it has been. He really needs to rectify that.

“Sasuke. Yours?”

“Naruto.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, wondering if he heard him right. “Naruto?” he reiterates.

“Mm-hm.”

“And it’s not a stage name?” he asks with incredulity. And even if it was, it’d be a hell of a crappy name. If it _is_ his birth name, though, then that makes it even crappier.

“Nope.”

“And you wanna keep it?”

Naruto shrugs. “Well, it _has_ grown on me after all these years of having it.”

Sasuke raises his eyebrows and contemplates it. If he were in this pros- _Naruto’s_ shoes, then he’d probably change his name down the line. Being named after fish is weird, though he guesses that sums Naruto up pretty well.

They turn a corner Sasuke’s familiar with, and just down the faintly illuminated alleyway, they find a short flight of stairs. It leads to a pristine, red door, a contrast to its aged, brick walls, ornamented with thin vines. A single light bulb above the door is blinking, illuminating a rusty nameplate that reads “Konoha,” and Naruto finds it ominous. He stops at the foot of the stairs. “What’s in there?”

“You’ll find out. Come on.” Sasuke inclines his head towards the door.

Naruto can’t shake this weird feeling in his gut. What if Sasuke’s hired some henchman to kill him or something? What if whatever’s down there is a notorious gang? Tokyo’s littered with them, after all.

Sasuke sighs, his breath puffy and white as he turns the door knob and opens it. The air is immediately filled with acoustic music, of a lone guitar and an angelic voice, and maybe Naruto’s a bit too trusting, but his suspicion fades away, and in it replaces curiosity. He doesn’t wait for Sasuke to prod him.

When he enters the room, he feels instant warmth hit his face, the smell of roasted coffee so poignant he wonders how he could’ve missed it from behind that door. Warm, golden light permeates the space, creating a sort of abstract safe haven, and everywhere he looks, he sees beanies. So many people in such an enclosed area. It looks like a small community of hippies, he realizes.

The girl at the stage has finished her song by the time he and Sasuke make it at a table, and it’s a wonder to Naruto how he even got to it because he’s been looking around so fervently. A girl with pink hair comes up to their table, notepad at the ready. At the pure and sheer excitement plastered on her face, Naruto can tell she’s a fangirl. Unfortunately, it’s Sasuke’s fangirl. “What would you like to order?” she asks animatedly, blush encompassing her entire face.

Sasuke looks to him for an answer. “Oh! Uh,” he picks up the menu placed in front of him and squints at the writing, “a caramel latte macchiato, please.” She nods as she earnestly writes it down. “With extra sugar,” he adds before she’s finished.

Sasuke can only raise an eyebrow. He wonders if Naruto has ever actually drunk a latte before, but doesn’t place his input. Sakura, the waitress who has some sort of fascination with him, hugs the notepad to her chest as she asks if that would be all. He looks to Naruto again.

Naruto blinks, lost, and then bursts with, “Ah! Just come back later. Lemme think.”

Then the waitress leaves, and another guitarist comes onstage. Naruto watches the guy set up with child-like interest, and then switches his attention to Sasuke. “So, popular with the ladies. Not surprised.” He rolls his eyes as he skims through the menu.

“It’s annoying.” Sasuke’s surprised at how honest that was.

Naruto smirks. “I can relate.”

“Oh, can you?”

He’s given a cheeky look, and Sasuke’s too late to regret what he said. “Well, it comes with the job description. But my boys are more blatant about it. None of this beating-around-the-bush stuff.”

“That’s because ‘your boys’ are all middle-aged men who know what they want. Also, I said to stop talking about this.” Sasuke busies himself with his own menu, even though he knows that he won’t buy anything for himself. “I don’t wanna talk about your overly active sex life.”

“Why? Jealous?”

“When pigs fly. I’m not a whore and I don’t plan to be one.”

Naruto slumps against his seat, shifting his attention to the stage again. “Wow. Way to make conversation, Mr. Sourpuss.”

They fall into silence, Sasuke scrolling through his phone, like he has friends. Naruto scoffs and just steers his attention to the guy onstage. He’s pretty good with the guitar, but his voice is shaky. Maybe he’s nervous? Naruto shrugs.

After the guy’s finished, a girl goes to the back of the stage and sits at a grand piano he didn’t know had been there before. Their waitress comes back at this point, his order in hand, which she then places in front of him. “Sorry for the wait! Have you decided on what you’d like?” Naruto doesn’t miss the fluttering of her eyelashes at Sasuke. Sasuke’s indifferent. _Jerk,_ he thinks, _at least acknowledge her._

Sasuke jerks a thumb at him. “Just ask this guy. He’s the one ordering.”

Naruto scratches the back of his head. “Actually, I still haven’t decided. Come back later?”

The waitress looks all but happy at this as she trots back behind the bar. Naruto studies the glass cup, the steam heating the tip of his nose. He’s not gonna lie; he’s pretty excited to try it out. He brings it up to his lips, careful that it doesn’t touch his tongue immediately. Then he sees Sasuke watching him, focused, and he has to wonder if the coffee’s been laced with something. He narrows his eyes. “What?”

Sasuke looks away, adjusting his plaid sweater and pushing at his designer glasses. Naruto hates how Sasuke’s are cooler than his. “Isn’t that too sweet?”

“Nope. It needs more sugar,” he answers, as he sips on the coffee. He might come back here again. He’s kinda liking the atmosphere this place has got, all mellow and cozy. But, that’s not what’s important right now. It’s been bugging him ever since arriving at the front door. “So, again, what’s with all the niceties?”

“I have to have a reason?”

“Oh, hell no. That’s totally fine. Let’s forget all about how you hate my guts and how you spat on everything that I stand for.” Naruto gives him a patronizing look, setting his chin on his clasped hands. “Oh, let’s also forget how you nearly _raped_ me at the hotel a week ago, yeah, let’s do that while you buy me coffee and continue to terrorize me with your gaze.”

Sasuke blows at his bangs. “ _All right,_ I’m an asshole. I get that. Now will you drop the subject?”

Naruto scoffs. “Are you _that_ afraid to say sorry? Look, let’s make this easy. Just tell me why you brought me here, and then I’ll shut up.”

Sasuke gives him that same calculating gaze, but Naruto’s used to it now. It’s like a type of poison he’s grown immune to, or like chicken pox, where if you get it once, you can’t get it again. He won’t be intimidated.

Then the Uchiha sighs, exasperated. “A tooth for a tooth. I know something about you, and now you know something about me that no one else knows.”

“Uuh,” Naruto scratches at his head, “what do I know, exactly?”

“Figures you wouldn’t know...”

“Hey!”

“But I’m into music. Get it? I’m not supposed to. If you listen to my brother enough, I’m sure he might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Naruto chuckles. “Actually, your brother’s silent about things that don’t involve his job. But why are you not supposed to? Is it some sort of taboo in your family or something?”

“You could say that.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Then _what?_ ”

“ _Why did you bring me here?_ ”

Naruto doesn’t break eye contact because he wants to make it clear that he’ll bolt at any indication that something doesn’t go in his favor. Pretty boy seems pretty determined to keep him here, so he _will_ find out the reason why.

Sasuke sighs for the umpteenth time today, because at this point, it’d be useless not to say anything. Naruto looks like he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants, and frankly, he’s done coming up with reasons.

“I want to see what you have to offer,” he bluntly puts it.

Naruto blinks at him. “Well, I have _lots_ to offer. I mean, I hate your guts too, but if you’re paying...”

“I’m not talking about that,” Sasuke interrupts him, and he levels him a look that Naruto has never seen on anyone before. With his limited vocabulary, Naruto doesn’t know how to describe it or what it entails.

“Okaaaay, then what?” Naruto gestures for him to continue, even though he has a heavy feeling that he won’t like the answer.

Sasuke looks away, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Look, I’m saying that I want to take you out sometime.”

Well, Naruto _definitely_ hadn’t been expecting that. He’s for sure now, that his soul has transmigrated from his body and gone down to hell, because what the hell is this? One minute, this guy is spewing his mouth off about how Naruto’s a ‘damn whore,’ and that he’s a damnation to society, and then the next, he’s being all nice, not to mention, he’s now practically _hitting_ on him. Talk about reverse personalities. He doesn’t remember Itachi telling him his brother had schizophrenia.

He sucks in a breath. “Whyyyyy?” he drags on, hoping to convey his unabashed confusion.

Sasuke looks away again. “That’s classified.”

Naruto slams an open palm on the table. He flinches inside, because that actually hurt, but doesn’t show it on his face. “Fuck that. You’re acting weird, Sasuke, and it’s creeping me out.” He tucks in on himself a bit to emphasize how he feels.

“Like I said, I wanna know what you have to offer. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

Naruto tries to make sense of what he said, and even when he’s walking back to his apartment, he’s still left pondering what the hell it all means. Nothing adds up. Granted, a whole week has passed since ‘that’ incident, but is that enough to change a person’s whole mentality towards someone else? It’s all weird to him. _Sasuke’s_ weird. He’ll have to do a bit of snooping around, but he’s guessing Sasuke's doing the same thing too.

They’d exchanged emails before he left the café (since he has no phone), and Sasuke had told him to watch out for one of his messages because he’d be sending one soon, but for what?

Whatever it is, Naruto’s going to make sure that he watches his own back. Then again, that isn’t anything new.

*

Right after leaving Konoha Café, Sasuke meanders through the city until he arrives at a pub he’ll soon forget. When he enters, Suigetsu’s already seated at a high table with Juugo, sipping some vermouth on the rocks. At the sight of Sasuke, he waves a nonchalant peace sign, and Sasuke just nods his head in acknowledgment.

He takes a seat next to Juugo, the chair’s squeals muffled by the bass and murmurs of the crowd.

“So, how’d it go? You texting me out of the blue like that. _Insane,_ ” Suigetsu chortles, propping his elbow on the chair.  

Sasuke smirks. “They fell for the bait. Typical.” He waves at a waiter nearby, and barks out his order. He’s glad he doesn’t have to yell it again. Maybe he’ll like this place after all. “They’re suspicious right now, but not for long.”

“Sasuke,” Juugo begins. “This may be out of line for me to say, but what’s the purpose of doing this? Couldn’t you just report them to the authorities?”

Suigetsu guffaws, patting Juugo on the back. “Are you kidding? This makes it fun, man. Learn to live a little.”

“No, he’s got a point,” Sasuke agrees upon better speculation. He props his chin on a knuckle. “The purpose? I’m just making good on my promise.”

Juugo raises an eyebrow. “That would be?”

“I told them I’d make them regret this.” He smiles to himself. “I’ll attack from the inside and make them so full of me that they’ll wish they never existed.”

“Cold-blooded,” Suigetsu jokes, but he really isn’t. That smile looks too menacing. “You really want to make this guy suffer, huh?”

When Sasuke finally gets his blue curacao, he runs his finger over the rim of the glass and admires the sweet hum of it. They don’t talk for a while, all of them indulging themselves on the drinks, and then Suigetsu gets an idea, one that makes him so eager that his vermouth spills from his mouth. Sasuke cringes.

“Oh, we should totally make a name for this. Like, Mission Hook the Hooker.”

Juugo shakes his head, despondent. Sasuke doesn’t deign to reply.

“Aw, come on, guys. It’s totally punny.” Suigetsu looks so hurt that his joke isn’t being well-appreciated.

Then Sasuke sighs. He’ll indulge him, just for tonight. “I got one.”

Suigetsu claps his hands, exaggeratedly so, bringing his chair closer to the table. “Lay it on me.”

He swirls his finger over the rim of the glass again, almost entranced by how the table’s light makes his drink neon blue, reminding him of bright eyes– bright eyes he wants to inflame only to snuff out. “Narutomaki.”

Suigetsu cocks his head to the side. “Mission Narutomaki? You want to name it after _fish?_ ”

“Suigetsu, it’s a codename after all. It’s best to be discreet about these things,” Juugo dutifully informs.

“Mm, you got a point. But really, Sasuke, _fish?_ What made ya think of that?”

Sasuke smirks. “That’s classified.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke's a big baby right now, but he'll develop into a big, mature adult, GUARANTEED, and as will all our other man-candies v.v Till next time, my sweets~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again~ After not updating for months on end, I finally bring you *drum roll, please* another worthless chapter! I'm sorry it took so long, but I had some major exams to finish, and I'm finally going on to 11th grade. Two more years *crosses fingers*
> 
> ALSO, I have something that I feel I need to address about this story. PLEASE, if you ever decide for yourself that you want to go into the sex industry, DO NOT use this story for reference. That is NOT my intention with this fanfic. I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about the sex industry, despite researching it so that I don't offend anybody. I just want you guys, as well as myself, to be entertained by Naruto's shenanigans as an AU sex worker. 
> 
> I don't doubt that some of you may resonate with some of the messages I'm sending with this story, and I DO have messages to relay to you guys, but I don't want it to be misconstrued. I'm not trying to run a social justice story here. This story was originally made for ME. I MADE it for ME, but I just decided that I wanted to share it with you guys, and I know that sometimes, that comes with responsibility because people get hurt over reasons I may never know, but I never intended to do. 
> 
> I now realize that the word "prostitute" is a slang term. I won't completely take the word out of the story, but it's not because I believe it's an acceptable word. Sometimes, the characters in my story can be cruel, and they'll use words to demean others *cough SASUKE cough* so they WILL use this term. Naruto may even use it for himself, because he doesn't find it offensive. He's proud of who he is, and I want it to show. But I'll set a limit for the word so that it doesn't offend anyone.
> 
> Just remember... take this story lightly. Try not to look at the semantics too much. Just enjoy it as we go through it together :) Feel the feels, the humor, the angst, everything!~ That's what I like to do! I love to have my readers feel emotion with my writing. It's what authors strive for. 
> 
> Again, this story is not MADE to be a reference for the sex industry. I know a story has influence over many, but don't be so harsh on it for some of its unrealistic qualities. As much as I want to keep the story as realistic as possible, at the same time, I just gotta have those dramatic moments that catch at your heartstrings and whatnot. I'm just a sap like that. Just know that I'll try my damnest to keep the facts straight. 
> 
> So without further ado, I give to you, Chapter 9!~ The first flashback chapter out of all the chapters.
> 
> P.S., there's probably more to be said, and believe me, I WANT to say more just so that everyone is in their happy place, but truth be told, I currently am not in the right state of mind to speak? But anyway, I'll just shut up now v.v

"Choin- I mean, Inochi- shit, I mean, Nochino, ugh! Just don't lick the damn swing set, brats!" Shikamaru berates, taking half a step forward to rush after them, only to remember that today was supposed to be a laid-back kind of day, and that he wasn't the type of person to care much to begin with. Also, Naruto is standing not a little too far behind him, and he'd rather die than let him see him so frazzled over a couple of kids.  

But, he guesses his efforts of maintaining that cool, easy-going façade was for naught, because Naruto is definitely snorting into his hand, and  _god,_  he  _really_ didn't want to do this today. He was supposed to be safely tucked in bed, Manila folders filled with photos stacked on his bedside table where he could effortlessly stretch an arm out, snatch the file, flip through his masterpieces, and marvel at the universe. But no, Naruto had to have coerced him into this shit today, on his day off, because it was the kids' birthdays. He massages at his temples.  

Naruto catches up and pats him on the shoulder, all patronizing and full of bullshit. " _Pft_ _..._ "  He takes a moment to compose himself, hiding a snicker behind his hand and turning away. He sucks a breath in. Shikamaru wants to roundhouse kick him. "You... still don't remember their names?"  

Shikamaru clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I know their names, idiot. It's just that Ino and Choji had to choose such confusing names for them that I always get tongue-tied saying it."  

Naruto guffaws. "It's easy! Choin and Inocho!" 

Shikamaru waves him off, pressing at his knees as he eases himself onto a bench. "Yeah, yeah. Preach it to the laity."  

"Come on, say it with me! CHO-IN! I-NO-CHO!"  

Shikamaru pretends to ignore him, as well as the people giving them the inevitable suspicious side-eye. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly.  

"CHO-IN! I-NO-CHO!" 

"CHO-IN! I-NO-CHO!" two, tiny voices squawk behind Naruto. Naruto swerves around, and points at the brats, with one of them currently at the top of the slide, and the other attempting a probably dangerous maneuver on the monkey bars.  

"Yeeeah! They get it! Come on, Shikamaru. Say it with us!"  

"Yeah, Uncle Boom-ShaKaLaKa !" Choin (or Inocho) pipes up. The other nods his head vigorously, nearly tipping over on the monkey bars. But he quickly rights himself, so the mini tremor Shikamaru feels in his chest subsides.  

Naruto tries to swipe the grin off his face again. "Uncle Boom-ShaKaLaKa?" he asks incredulously.  

Shikamaru has had it up to here already, and the day has barely started. He doesn't deign to reply.  

"Yeah!" Inocho (Probably. He still hasn't quite figured it out yet) lifts himself so that he's able to sit on one of the bars. "Uncle Boom-ShaKaLaKa, 'cause that's his name." 

"No, no, kids! It's Shikamaru. Say it with me, now! SHI-KA-MA-RU..." 

Shikamaru groans into his hands.  

The kids start repeating after him, quite loudly at that, and though they stumble over some of the syllables at first, they begin to phrase it correctly  after a few tongue-tied tries. Though, with Naruto being their teacher, it just ends up being a shouting contest, and all progress ends up abandoned and forgotten.  

When he sees the tell-tale signs of a blue uniform, probably in the form of a cop, beyond the see-saw, he knows he has to intervene before he really has to deal with something stressful.  

"Oi! Shut up, already. Naruto..." He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out some yen. "Go buy them some ice cream." 

"Huh? Why should I have to? They're  _your_  nephews!" Naruto narrows his eyes at him. 

"Yeah. And I'm the guy giving you free ice cream." He tosses a few of the coins into the air, catching them back into the palm of his hand. "But if it's such a headache to you, just give them the money. They know where to go." 

Naruto blows at his bangs in resignation. "Fiiineee..." 

Despite throwing a huge sissy fit about it, Naruto ends up taking the brats with him to the ice cream parlor across the street, singing some weird American song as he holds their hands. The brats take up the song with him even though they have no idea what they're saying or what the song even is.  

Shikamaru shakes his head, already tired and yearning for sleep. He never thought in a billion years that he'd be here, sitting on a park bench in Tokyo, mourning for his apparently-stolen independence and freedom. If this was what it felt like to be a father, he wanted no part of it.  

He never really  _had_   been fond of kids, though at one point, he did believe he'd have them one day, just because it was a matter of course. Wasn't that the expected? Slave away in school, find a suitable job with more-than-meager wages, find a suitable wife, then make suitable kids? He didn't particularly want those things, per se, but he had known it was the path he was going to take, just because he had been too lazy to come up with something else.  

Then he met Naruto.  

They'd met on the night of Ino and Choji's wedding. He was the groom's best man, as well as the professional photographer of the night, free of charge. The idiot that he was, he ended up wasting himself on a bottle of wine or two or three, and ended up stumbling out into a park and slumping into a bench, one very similar to the one he was currently sitting on, might he add.  

He doesn't really remember why he drank so much. He would venture to guess that it was because Choji, his best friend, was finally at the second-to-last stage of his life, and he was still at his first. While his best friend was off making babies and going about life the way it was supposed to  be done, he's over here not really  _wanting_ to do it that way, but settling for it because he knew no better way.  

It really made him reevaluate a lot of things. He was a single man in his twenties who lived in a penthouse, who never did anything outside of school and work, and never bothered to pick up a book on picking up chicks because he couldn't be assed to do it. He lived a pretty dry existence, void of celebratory instances, and rotting away to perfection. It made him realize that he was probably more lonely than he let on, even to himself, and that was even more depressing than the part where he had to admit that his life was boring.  

While he had been off to La-La Land on Philosophy Planet, Naruto, who he hadn't known at all at the time, had taken residence on the bench next to him, and just immediately stroke up a conversation with him. Something about his tuxedo being ridiculously white and blinding him in the night, or something. All Shikamaru knew was that this man was pretty, and he wanted to encapsulate it into his camera. So he did. 

Naruto had blinked owlishly at him for a couple of seconds before blowing a gasket and saying that he was going to have to pay him for that if he was going to keep it. Not being at his complete right state of mind, Shikamaru ended up just forking over a wad of cash without any preambles.  

Naruto laughed so hard that he told him to just keep it. He didn't like to take money unless he really earned it. So, without thinking it over much, Shikamaru offered him a caveat. "Be my model for tonight."  

And Naruto had said okay. 

At this point, through the train ride and drive back home, Shikamaru knew next to nothing about this man besides the fact that he had curious whisker-like scars on his cheeks, the bluest of blue eyes he had ever seen, blond hair that matched his blond eyelashes, and a face he would carve into his memory if it was as capable as his camera.  

When they got back to his penthouse, Naruto talked his head off about anything and everything as he set up his mini studio, and fiddled with the lights. He went on and on about always wanting to become a model, but always being intimidated by the industry, about how he came from the countryside, and how he had a strong country accent, but was always working hard to repress it.  

He was so talkative that it became contagious, it seemed . As he snapped photos of Naruto's naked back, his tanned chest, his lean legs, he began to talk about little snippets of his own life, interjecting where Naruto would stop talking, and blabbering on and on. He's never quite figured out whether it was because of the alcohol or because Naruto's just good at making him talk, but he ended up sharing the deepest parts of himself in this one photo session; so much so, that Naruto wanted to return the favor.  

"I'm a prostitute," he had said. 

Shikamaru had ended up shrugging, before growing rigid and realizing how that might have seemed insensitive. "Well, are you unhappy?"   


"I think I'm living, and that's a lot better than just existing."  

Shikamaru had been shocked. He had never seen such a genuine smile like that. No one he knew would be able to smile about their jobs the way he did, but here Naruto was, smiling about being a sex worker, a job that should have stereotypically painted him in desolation. 

To this day, he still keeps that picture tucked away in his secret hiding place. It inspired him to say even more.  He was able to empty a lot of stuff that he'd probably kept repressed all these years, and he'd never felt so good and so whole. 

He talked about wanting to make an impact on the world, and if not the world, then just his own world. Maybe it would make him feel like he was worth something rather than just a tiny speck in this impressively inordinate universe, even if no one was witness to it.  

Naruto had just smiled. "I think everyone wants to do something great and be known for it. I mean, it'd be awesome having people know who you are."  

"Yeah, it's not really a big,  unique dream or anything." Shikamaru shrugged , chuckling despite himself. "I guess I just kinda want life to not be so..." He racked his alcohol-addled mind for the word.  

"Boring?" 

"No-- ordinary." 

Naruto had hummed in agreement, silent and understanding. He switched his pose to something more risque, but Shikamaru found no fault with that. A mischievous grin began to morph on his lips.  

"Then why not try me for tonight? It'd be out of the ordinary." 

Shikamaru had stopped snapping pictures at that point, not quite processing what he had just heard. "Sex with  _you?_ " he'd asked with a little more incredulity than he intended.  

"Yeah, sex with me! Let's do it." 

Shikamaru remembers just staring into Naruto's determined eyes, wondering why this guy wasn't a little bit fazed at all about asking someone to have sex with them. Scratch that. Naruto had literally demanded it. He'd shaken his head and scoffed, saying, "No,"  then resumed taking pictures.  

Naruto pouted. "I'm serious! Why not?" 

"First, I'm not gay. Second, I'm already paying you for modeling for my pictures, and on top of that, you're wanting me to pay for sex?" 

Naruto sighed, scratching at his hair. "Well, it's still worth a try! It's something new, isn't it? Aren't you a virgin?"  

"In the back door, and frankly, I want it to stay that way." 

"Then we'll keep it that way!" At this point, Naruto had already left his post, and ambled closer to where he was, tugging on his shirt playfully. He hadn't really noticed it at the time. His eyes were just so  _blue_.    "I'll even give you my service scotch-free! Consider it a favor from a friend." He hadn't even sounded insane when he said it.  

Though he likes to think that it was because he had met Naruto on a drunken night, he knew that enough time had passed so that he was sober enough to make his own decisions; therefore, consenting with full knowledge of what he was getting into.  

He'd admit-- he hadn't gotten laid in a long time. Who was he to pass it up, even if it was being offered by a guy who was supposedly a sex worker? And Naruto wasn't too bad to look at either.  

Shikamaru sighed, completely resigned. "This seems like it's going to be a pain." 

Naruto smiled brightly, lacing their fingers together and kissing his knuckles. He nuzzled his cheek against the back of his hand. "Then just lie back."  

"If you make it worth my while."  

He winked then. Shikamaru surmised it was a way to seduce him, but really, he just found it endearingly cute as he was dragged into his mess of a bedroom, and onto his mess of a bed. As he'd already guessed, Naruto was a passionate and eager kisser. As bold as his words were, his body was the same in the way he undulated his body with confidence and finesse, the way he dragged slow hands down Shikamaru's chest, and grinded their hips together. 

It was a fire on his lips that he grew parched for. 

Though it was initially weird for him to have a man bouncing avidly on his lap, he ultimately threw caution to the wind, and grabbed for his hips, meeting Naruto halfway with every thrust. It got to the point where he was just punching the moans out of Naruto's mouth, and he couldn't get enough of it. He had just wanted to soak the pleasure in and stay lost in it, if only for a little while.  

They went for a few more rounds, but being the way he was, he couldn't beat off the laziness even if he wanted to. And he didn't want to. They'd just laid there on his bed, breathing heavily and perspiring together. Naruto was just laughing and laughing, and Shikamaru didn't know why. Though it was scientifically impossible, he thought that maybe Naruto was drunk off his kisses. Not on his kisses, per se, because he wasn't a narcissist, but on the liquor that had still stained his lips.  

"Why are you laughing so much?" 

Naruto wiped at a tear collecting at the corner of his eye, wheezing softly. "Because that was fun!"  

Shikamaru had merely blinked at him. Well, he gets that sex can be fun, but not  _funny._    Not like that.  

"All right, all right. Playtime's over. I wanna go to bed."  

At this, Naruto had gotten eerily silent.  

Shikamaru just turned his lamp off, shrouding them in darkness. He pulled the blankets up to their necks. 

"Wait, you're not sending me out?"  

Shikamaru stretched as he yawned, turning over to his side so that he could  face Naruto, where he could stare at his blue eyes some more, even if the dark was making it kind of difficult. "Ah? What are you talking about? That's too much of a hassle, isn't it?"  

"Well, yeah, but... never mind." 

"Mm," he'd just hummed. "By the way, order out or make something for breakfast, because I'm too lazy for that."  

"Fuck yes! Ramen!" 

"Ramen?" 

"Yeah. It'll be good. I promise." 

"Whatever. Just go to bed." 

And that was how he met Naruto, in all his eccentricities and bubbliness. The rest from there is history. He doesn't really remember why he called Naruto again. It might've been because he wanted an excuse not to go back up north to go to a family reunion, or it might've been because he just felt like he wanted a companion to talk to over ramen with.  

It was just nice to have someone to fill the silence, sometimes.  

When Naruto and the kids return with their ice creams, Inocho (or Choin) had a huge white stain that wasn't there on his black shirt before. He turned disparaging eyes onto Naruto.  

Naruto scratched the back of his head apologetically. "Ehe, Inocho got some ice cream spilled on his shirt."  

"I can see that." Shikamaru held his palm out. "Where's my change?" 

"Oh, about that! I bought him another ice cream."  

"He also bought  _himself_  another one!" one of them piped up. Naruto quickly made to shush them as he wrapped his arms around their necks and pulled them to the side. 

"You promised you wouldn't say anything, Inocho!" Ah, Shikamaru was right. The one with the stain on his shirt was Inocho. "I even gave you a piece of mine." 

"But you got him the wrong flavor. Besides, you didn't buy  _me_  another one either!" Choin harrumphed.  

"I didn't have enough!" Naruto protested. 

"Liar, liar! Pants on fire!"  

"Shut up! You're the ones who didn't keep your promises!"  

Shikamaru sighs again. He thought he was babysitting _two_  kids, not three. He reaches for his wallet again and proffers some more yen. "Here. Just go buy yourselves another one." 

"Yay!" the two holler.  

"Thanks, Boom-ShaKaLaKa!" Inocho squeals as his brother grabs the yen, and they both sprint to the ice cream parlor. 

"Hey, that's  _Uncle_   Boom-ShaKaLaKa, youngins!" Naruto quips. Shikamaru sighs for the umpteenth time. "And you! If they eat too much ice cream, how are they going to eat the cake Choji made for the surprise party later?"  

"They'll eat it. Kids always have room for desserts." 

Naruto hums in agreement. "True." He takes a seat beside him, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "Here. I got you an ice cream sandwich."  

Shikamaru smiles. "Idiot. You know I hate sweets."  

"Then let's just share!" Naruto winks at him, ripping the wrapper off and splitting it in half. _This was his plan all along, the little brat, _ Shikamaru thinks. 

Both of them just munch around the sandwich a bit, watching other kids get rowdy on the playground, kicking up the sand and just being all around snots. Shikamaru's glad he's into guys, too. He's  _really_  glad, because then that means that there's less of a probability of him having to bear children for anyone.  

Just as he's finishing his last bite, Naruto begins laughing. "You're an  _u_ _ncle... _ " He bursts into laughter again. Shikamaru looks on, completely put off. "I'm sorry! I've been laughing at you all day, I know, but I just never thought I'd hear someone call you that."  

"You make it sound like it could never have happened." 

"It's just that when I think of uncles, they don't look like you! Usually, they're all creepy and have weird mustaches." Naruto reaches out for his last piece of the ice cream, but he swerves it out of his reach. "Aw, come on. I'm so hungry."  

"There's a party later. Eat to your heart's content."  

"Come ooon, Uncle Shikamaru!"  

Okay, now he's starting to realize how right Naruto was about being him being called an uncle. It really  _is_ creepy. He scrunches up his nose in disgust. "Don't call me that, and you can have it." 

"Deal!  " 

After that, the kids return with two ice creams, one in each hand, busily licking at both in repeated patterns so that none of it drips to the ground. Naruto tries to take a bite whenever they aren't looking, but Choin and Inocho catch him every time, like they have a sixth sense for it. Eventually, the kids get tired of having to deal with brain freezes, so they throw their leftovers away, much to Naruto's chagrin, and move on to the see-saw.  

Shikamaru checks his watch, while Naruto leans against his arm. "Is it almost time to leave?" 

"Nope. Not until Ino texts me and says it's okay."  

"It's been over two hours and my hands are frozen solid." Shikamaru feels his eye twitching. He can't take much more of this.  Naruto just holds his hand underneath their jackets so that onlookers can't see.  

"Haha! Quit being so down about it! I'll be sure to warm you up later."  

"Mm," he hums in agreement. He hopes Naruto can hear his undertone of, 'You better.' 

"Yup. I'll brew us some hot chocolate, get the fire going in the fireplace, and get the fires going in our loins, too!" 

"Please. Don't ever say 'loins' again." 

"Loins."  

"Shut up." 

"Shikamaru." 

"What?" 

"They're licking the swing set." 

Shikamaru just sighs again. "I know." 

Naruto laughs and laughs.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this really late into the night, uggh. If there are any mistakes, I'll most likely change that shit up in the morning, lol. If you haven't already read my author's note up top, PLEASE do. It's very important. Thank you, and have a rad day, you wonderful reader you *noogies*


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter this time around!~ And it WAS going to be longer, but I was already lazy to begin with, tehe... forgive me.

Naruto haphazardly scratches at his left cheek. He growls in distaste.

"Dude, I think I have a giraffe allergy."

"A giraffe allergy?" Kiba scoffs. "I highly doubt that. You probably just have fleas."

Naruto harrumphs indignantly, crossing his legs. "Pot calling the kettle black, eh?"

"Whatever! Now, are you gonna help me out or not?" Kiba huffs, wiping at his brow and being careful not to swipe some of the acacia leaves in his hand over his forehead.  

Naruto puts a finger up. "In just a second! I'm about to beat my score on Flappy Bird!" 

Kiba chuckles. "Aren't you a little late for that game?"

"Well, it's not like I could've gotten a phone when the game came out." He sticks his tongue out in a childish, mocking retort. 

"Hmm, true. When did you even get that thing? And it's the newest I-phone, too."

Naruto tries to tap at the screen a little more gently, now. Any minute, and he'll beat his last score. "I got it a few days back. One of my clients was getting sick of emailing me, so he just thought to buy me a phone. He's paying for the plan and everything." 

"Hah! Fancy," Kiba snorts as he squats and retrieves more acacia leaves from the bucket next to him. He climbs the ladder in a mechanical fashion, so used to doing this on a daily basis, and throws it into the troughs set up for the giraffes in their barns. He, unfortunately, has to do this arduous task throughout the whole of this winter because his mom hates his guts. Lucky for him (he rolls his eyes), he gets to be the owner of this place in a few years. It was always a given that he'd be next in line to take over the zoo for his mom, thus why she's making him do all these stupid tasks to get ready for it. 

Honestly, he thinks that once he's become the owner, all these "skills" he's building will be forgotten. He'll mainly just have to deal with paperwork instead of interacting with the animals, themselves. He sighs and turns to look down at Naruto from up the ladder. "Oi. Fetch me another batch of leaves." 

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," Naruto says absentmindedly, his eyes focused on the screen and nothing else. He stands to his feet from the shallow well used as a makeshift watering hole for the giraffes, and dusts his pants, making his way to the open storage room nearby.

The idiot was supposed to be helping him feed the giraffes in their annual and temporary winter cages, but here he is wasting his time on Flappy Bird. He might have to rescind that promise about buying ramen for the both of them if he doesn't see improvement in performance soon. But, as nature would like to have it (that's just what Kiba calls it), Naruto will probably get his ways, and it's not because he begs for it (though he usually pouts). It's because Kiba cares for him more than he would like to admit, sometimes. Just... sometimes. 

When he comes back with the filled bucket, Kiba climbs down from his perch and slides the ladder to the next cubicle with Naruto supporting the hinds of it. 

"So," Kiba begins, huffing a bit. "How's lover-boy?" He smirks. Naruto squirms before he's realized he's actually done that, and then puffs his chest in a form of false bravado to compensate. 

"Oh, I haven't told you? We have a date." Naruto shrugs, all feigned nonchalance and smugness. 

"Shit, with Duckbutt? When is it?" 

"Two days from now," Naruto informs, making a beeline towards the well again. "You know that Italian restaurant by the bank?" 

"Yeah. That's where you're going?" Kiba shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "Sure you can afford it?"

"Hah! If he wants to get on my good side, he better foot the bill. Besides, it's not like we'll even get to that point." 

Kiba raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Naruto throws a fist in the air, having beaten his score. Kiba rolls his eyes. Seeming to realize that he was just asked a question, Naruto just chuckles to himself. "Oh, I'm just gonna stand him up. The asshole deserves it."

"Whoa, wait." Kiba stops filling the trough in front of him, and whirls around to stare at Naruto. "We're talking about one of your clients' brothers, right? Are you sure you really want to just leave it at that? What if this guy's actually serious?" 

Naruto stares back with clear incredulity. "What, are you crazy? This guy can't seriously wanna get with me." 

"Says you. You never _knoooow,_ " he drawls, turning back to the task at hand. 

"What makes you think  _I_ even wanna get with him?" 

Kiba shrugs as he commences climbing down the ladder for more leaves. "I'm not. I'm just saying that instead of calling it quits this early in the game,  _play_ with him. Find out what he's all about. See why the hell he even wanted to do this in the first place."

Naruto raises an eyebrow. "But...  _why?_ " 

"Your call, Blondie. Besides, don't you live for adventure and mystery?" 

Naruto quirks his lips to the side, unable to find fault with that accusation. "But, what would I even get out of this guy besides his constipated smirk?" He seethes inwardly at the clear image he perfectly conjures. 

"Free meals," Kiba remarks, waving some leaves in front of Naruto's face. Naruto pushes his hand away.

"But  _you_ give me free meals. So does everyone else. That's nothing new."

"Yeah, but this guy has free meals  _and_ money out the wazoo." 

"Psh." Naruto waves his hand noncommittally. "Like I said, so does everyone else I know. This guy has nothing new to offer."

Kiba sighs, denying himself the pleasure of rubbing at his temples. He's been touching dirty leaves with gloved hands for a couple of hours now. He isn't about to introduce more germs to his face than he needs to. "Look, you want me to be real here? This guy has been the only one to want to take you on a date without  _any_ stipulations. I hate to break it to ya, but any guy who's approached you so far has only wanted in on your cargo pants- which don't suit your ass, by the way."

Naruto bristles at that comment. Kiba ignores it and continues.

"And that's not your fault. The type of work you're in is a magnet for people like that. All I'm saying is that you need to have someone to fall back on without having to offer your services to keep them around. You need to experience  _real_ relationships."

Naruto pouts. Kiba surmises that this one isn't intentional. "Well, isn't  _our_ friendship real?"

"Of course it is, and you know that. But I'm also your _client._ You need a relationship that isn't based on work." He comes closer and flicks Naruto on the forehead. Naruto hisses and rubs at it, glaring at him. Again, he ignores the ire. "This guy could  _give_ you that, and I'll be damned if I see my best friend miss this chance because he's acting like a stubborn mule. That wouldn't be fair to you."

Naruto turns away from him, sniffling a bit. Kiba's instantly taken aback, almost getting whiplash, because is that a  _tear_  he sees? 

"Hey, I..."

"You can be such an asshole sometimes," Naruto snivels.

Before Kiba starts to think that he's royally fucked up, Naruto grabs his jacket sleeve and tugs him forward so that he can wrap his arms around his waist and cry into his shirt. 

Kiba sighs in relief and pats at his head.  _This idiot was crying tears of joy._  He chuckles. "Only at the best of times." He pulls Naruto back and stares down at his tear-stricken face. "Here, wipe that snot off." He rubs his jacket sleeve under Naruto's runny nose, and Naruto protests weakly, like a child. He takes Naruto's head in his hands, and looks him straight in the eye. "And like I said, he'll give you five-star meals, more money on top of everything else you already receive..." he begins listing off. " _... And,_  you _also_ have a mega elementary courtyard crush on him."

Naruto pushes him away. He snickers and clutches at his stomach, near dry-heaving. 

"I do  _not._ The giraffe dung stench has finally gotten to ya, huh?"

"Shut up, asshole," Kiba says as he rights himself and wipes a stray tear from his eye, picking up his empty bucket and trudging back to the storage room. "Admit it. You _liiike_ him," he sing-songs. 

Naruto scoffs. "Yeah, I like him as much as my aunt's overgrown toenail."

"Ugh, that's fucking gross." He looks at Naruto with complete disgust, which only seems to fill him with gleeful smugness.

"Exactly."

"Whatever. Again, it's  _your_ call." Done with trying to convince him, he just raises his hands in the universal sign of surrender. He pauses when another addendum breaks through the fray of his thoughts. "And if it doesn't fall through, you know you'll always have me."

Naruto guffaws, clutching at his mouth. "When did you get so sappy on me, you mangy mutt?" 

"Shut up." Kiba flicks him the bird, though there's no heat behind it. "This mangy mutt's gonna lick your cuts and bruises all better if the Duck doesn't fit the standards. And plus, I don't  _just_ lick injuries. I'll give it to you free, Whiskers, since I'm such a generous guy."

Naruto harrumphs again as he feigns throwing a lock of hair behind him. "Nope. If you wanna touch the merchandise, you gotta pay up."

Kiba laughs, and shakes his head. "Oh, fuck you! Now, are you gonna help or just sit on your ass all day?"

"Eh, I think I'll just sit here."

"Son of a bitch."

*

Okay.

He can do this. He's fucked guys with dicks the size of lead pipes, and he's survived six months of being homeless. Going on a measly date with Duckbutt (or should he say, Sasuke), is nothing compared to whatever else he's done or what's been done _to_ him. So, why the hell can't he move his damn legs and stop hiding behind this pole, a pole which probably isn't doing too well a job of hiding him? 

Sasuke is currently sitting on the water fountain in the middle of the park, scrolling away on his phone, probably wondering where the hell he is and trying not to let it show, 'cause he's probably thinking Naruto will stand him up, right? Naruto chuckles darkly to himself.  _Serves him right,_ he thinks. He totally deserves to be stood up after everything he put Naruto through. He doesn't need to listen to Kiba's words. He can just turn around and walk right out of here, delete his number, and never show his face ever again.

Though, there's always a chance that he'll walk in on one of his and Itachi's rendezvous. He should probably get around to telling Itachi about this, but he's not decided whether he really should. _Should_ he tell Itachi? Should he even go on this date if it means that he _does?_ And if he _does_ go, what would that _mean?_

He clutches at his head in frustration. 

It's just a date. A simple, measly date. _One without any stipulations,_ if he were to quote Kiba correctly. 

He stops grabbing at his blond hair for a moment, and glances upwards at Duckbutt (or, Sasuke. He really needs to fix that). He's just sitting there, completely oblivious and absorbed, quiet and being stared at by everyone else around him. _Probably because he's so damn gorgeous._ Yeah, Naruto will admit that part, but it doesn't change anything, even with his perfectly groomed, silky, parted hair, flawless skin, and handsomely tailored attire. If anything, Naruto's jealous, not _attracted..._ per se.

Even if the guy has done and said some terrible shit, and he looks like he can kill a person with a smile on his face, it doesn't necessarily mean he's an evil, conniving mastermind. If he thinks about it, this  _is_ Itachi's younger brother, and they can't be too far from personality. Itachi wouldn't purposefully seek out malevolence on a person, and neither would Sasuke. Or at least, he hopes.  _So, what could possibly go wrong?_ he thinks, weighing the possibilities and shrugging to himself. 

In lack of the presence of a friend who can warn him otherwise, and in lack of any sense of danger he may have previously harbored and has now discarded, Naruto decides that he will go on this date, if only to sniff out what Kiba told him to. 

He awkwardly waves and mutters a, "Hey," though it's croaky at best. Sasuke barely passes him a glance and sighs before standing to his feet and stuffing his phone in a back pocket. He crosses his arms.

"Hn."

Naruto stiffens. "What?"

"You're late."

_Well, then._

He chuckles, scratching at the back of his head. "Sorry! I got caught up in all the traffic! Those damn nine-to-fivers. Besides, I was only late by about five minutes."

"Still late," Sasuke waves off, though it doesn't look like he believes the lie anymore than Naruto would like to himself. He looks like he's about to say something of importance when he does a double-take on Naruto, and conspicuously appraises him. "What are you wearing?" he asks with a bit of an edge to his voice.

Naruto surveys the rest of his outfit in complete unawareness, eyebrow raised. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sasuke sighs, nettled. "I told you to dress formally."

"I am! Look at this tie!" He gestures to all of its orangeness. Sasuke sighs again and comes closer. Naruto stiffens just a little again.

"Never mind. And your tag's still on."

"What?" Naruto half-squeaks as he searches his body for it. 

Sasuke ignores his fumbling and gently moves his hand aside, uncovering the price tag that Naruto had never noticed had been there before. He snags it off and presents it to him with a smug glint in his eye. Naruto feels his face heat in just the tiniest bit, feeling all-around stupid and childish.

Sasuke sighs. "I take it you didn't wash your personality away when you jumped into the shower this morning." He chucks the price tag in a trash can nearby and beckons for Naruto to follow. 

"Asshole! I washed myself thoroughly!"

Sasuke stuffs a hand in his pocket, and just does his usual, weird, monotonous grunt. "This way."

Naruto glares holes at the back of his head, but follows nonetheless. "Where are we going?" 

"To my car."

" _Your_ car?"

Sasuke nonchalantly points north of them. "Yes. It's parked around the corner." 

Naruto nods obediently.

He eyes Sasuke up and down as they walk to wherever he wants to take him, and hates how good he looks in that semi-formal attire, with his pressed, long-sleeved shirt and waistcoat. If anything, Naruto would be considered more formal because he's wearing a tie, and Sasuke surely isn't. He harrumphs mentally. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sasuke says when Naruto's finally zoned back into the moment. He's gesturing to a silver jaguar, a car that Naruto has only hoped to ever touch in his dreams, a car that Sasuke's currently walking around to get to the driver's seat, _and Naruto feels faint._

"Uuh..." he garbles intelligibly. 

"Get in. We're burning daylight." Sasuke doesn't wait for him as he lowers his head and seats himself in the car. Meanwhile, Naruto's having a little panic attack because he's going to be sitting in those leather seats, and he doesn't know how he won't make a fool of himself. But, as luck would have it, he's able to sit in it quite well (and more than likely look dashing at it at that); though he'd rather experience driving it than just sitting in the passenger seat, he guesses it'll have to do. 

The ride itself is smooth and fast, although he can't say the same for Sasuke and him. It's eerily silent between them, and he can't tell whether it's because one of them is nervous or just likes the quiet. Either way, he knows which one he is, and it isn't the latter. Sasuke glances at him at the corner of his eye.

He wrings his fingers together, frustrated at how anxious he feels. He chuckles out of habit again. "Uh... okay, so, um... how are you?"

"Better than you, apparently. Why are you so nervous?"

"Psh! I'm not nervous," he blatantly lies. 

Sasuke raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Hn. Well, you can turn the music on, if you want."

"Uh, yeah!" He immediately goes for the radio, and is relieved when he's pressed the right button and a light, acoustic song starts mid-chorus. He cocks his head at the foreign words that are sung, but bobs his head to the music anyway. He surmises it's English since he understands a few of the key words, like 'thrill,' 'love,' and 'new.'

"You can change it."

"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it." He turns the dial on the radio a bit to turn it up. Sasuke just nods his head, glancing at him every now and again. 

It's relative silence, but it wasn't as stifling as before, so Naruto takes what he can get. He snickers lightly. "Do you understand what it's saying?"

"Yeah. You don't?" 

Naruto shakes his head. Instead of being ridiculed like he expects, Sasuke just smiles. "He's saying he falls in love with someone new every day." 

Naruto raises his eyebrows. "Huh."

"Kinda reminds me of somebody." 

"Yeah?"

Sasuke just eyes him curiously. "Yeah."

Naruto shrugs and stares at the passing buildings. Now that he's listening more intently, he can make out some of the words better, like "fall in love," "every day," and "someone new." 

"Hozier," Sasuke says. Naruto just gives him a puzzled look. "That's his name. I'm guessing you've never heard of him." 

"Aha, no. But now I do!" 

Sasuke hums, tapping on the wheel to the beat.

Momentarily, they arrive at that Italian restaurant that Naruto's been dying to try out. He and Sasuke enter and are immediately seated at one of the tables in the near back by the overeager maître d'. As Sasuke dismisses her, Naruto surveys his surroundings and immediately feels out of place with how refined the atmosphere is. The patrons are all dressed formally, as Sasuke has foreshadowed to, and he is most certainly not. Luckily, the seating that Sasuke has booked provides them with a little more privacy.

A Japanese waitress thankfully serves them their drinks in the nick of time before Naruto starts shuffling nervously. He drinks his Sierra Mist like it's his oasis in a desert. Sasuke doesn't comment on it, and instead flips through his menu absentmindedly, whereas Naruto nearly tips his glass over trying to even get a peek at his own. 

Though he's glad that there are pictures to navigate him through the menu, he isn't quite sure what he can order, considering how most of the food doesn't pertain to his familiar palate of Japanese cuisine, though he guesses that's to be expected since they're at an Italian restaurant. Not to mention, everything is in romaji. He chews on a fingernail. 

Sasuke doesn't fail to notice this. He lowers the menu away from his face. "Stop that. Can you read it?"

"Of course I can read it!"  _Though, he can't exactly translate it._ He chuckles nervously, though this is more out of habit than for show anymore. "Uhh... do they have ramen, maybe?"

Sasuke looks at him with excruciating impassiveness. "Are you an idiot? Of course they don't."

Naruto just laughs it off. "I-It was a joke! I'm not really a dumbass."

"Charming. Try to keep it down." 

Naruto bites his lower lip and looks around him. Nobody seems to have been looking, so he releases a sigh. Again, they're left in that awkward silence. He's starting to wonder whether it was better for them to have continued being rivals because at least then they could bicker away, not waste away in this overtly civilized and taciturn arrangement. 

The waitress comes around for their orders, and he couldn't be gladder. In the end, he chats her up about the items on the menu, and ultimately just asks her to surprise him. He thinks it's a perfect cop-out. It makes him look cultured and very much a risk-taker. He would pat himself on the back if Sasuke weren't here. Which reminds him, Sasuke  _is_ here, and they still haven't breathed more than a few words to each other since having gotten here. He clears his throat.

"So... Italian. Didn't expect you to like this stuff, but I guess I should've seen it coming." 

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at that.

"I mean-- you're a rich kid. Liking Italian food suits you in some way," he tries to repeal. 

Sasuke places his chin on a palm. "What does being rich have to do with liking Italian food?" 

"You can afford it! I mean..." He grabs at the menu still laid on their table, and points at one of the pictures. "Look at how much yen you'd have to pay for a tomato salad! If I wanted to just eat vegetables, I could've bought something from the grocery store down the street." 

Sasuke scoffs. "Tomatoes aren't vegetables."

"Huh?"

He rolls his eyes. "They're fruits. Tomatoes are fruits."

Naruto pauses. He looks around, as if it'll provide him with more words to say. Instead, laughter just sprouts. 

"What?" Sasuke near hisses.

"No, no, I'm sorry. It's just-- I thought I heard you say that tomatoes were fruits, not vegetables."

"And?"

Naruto shrugs, leaning back in his seat. "I'm pretty sure they're vegetables."

Sasuke sighs heatedly, rubbing at his temples with a condescending smirk. "Obviously, you didn't pay attention in school; but I assure you, tomatoes are fruits."  

"I paid attention!" Naruto exclaims indignantly. 

Sasuke crosses his arms, disbelieving.

"Okay, well, I paid attention sometimes. But that's beside the point. Tomatoes are vegetables! Last I remembered, fruits are sweet, and tomatoes are so not!" He cringes, thinking about biting into one out of his own volition. 

"Astute observation, moron. But no, it's still classified as a fruit."

"Why?"

"Because it has seeds, so botanically, it's a fruit."

"But that would mean squashes and cucumbers are also fruit."

"They technically are."

Naruto narrows his eyes and leans in. The next words he says are the most childish and immature things Sasuke's ever heard come out of a grown man's mouth. " _Prove it._ "

He scoffs. "You can look it up yourself if you're that passionate about it."

"Fine. I will," Naruto delivers quite smugly. He whips his new I-phone out, and immediately types it into Google. He's a tad bit gleeful to see that he doesn't misspell anything when his fingers usually hit buttons uncontrollably. 

He reads through the first article, skimming the first few paragraphs, but his confidence slowly starts to wane as he does. He glances up at Sasuke every few intervals, as he sips on his water, eyes intent on his fork, curiously. 

Naruto bites his bottom lip as he slowly places his phone back into a pocket. 

"Well," he begins, chuckling to himself. "Are we really fighting over tomatoes right now?" 

"Admit it. I won."

Naruto pouts petulantly. "So! To-may-to, to-mah-to!" He gesticulates wildly, and Sasuke looks on with this patronizing expression on his face. Then it slowly morphs and contorts into one of laughter.

Naruto is taken aback, to say the least. Sasuke just continues laughing, all deep and husky, but there's this distinct boyish air to it-- a candid, hidden youthfulness. It was so weird seeing him like this, so rid of inhibitions. He has to say, Sasuke looks really cute like this-- all giggly, with eyes sparkling and crinkling at the corners. 

When Sasuke notices the bewildered look he's currently receiving, he coughs into his hand and clears his throat, reverting back to perfect, eloquent Duckbutt Uchiha in under a millisecond.

Naruto smiles awkwardly. "Wow... I'm a little surprised. I thought Uchihas didn't know how to laugh... or weren't _allowed_ to or something."

Sasuke runs fingers through his hair. "Of course I know how to laugh. There's not a lot that 'tickles' me, though."

Naruto smiles. "Not a lot 'tickles' your brother much, either! But, I _have_ seen him laugh once. It was one of my proudest moments!"

Sasuke turns disbelieving eyes on him again, though there's an inkling of curiosity in their depths. "You've seen Itachi, my _brother,_ laugh before?"

"I know. It's kinda hard to believe, huh?"

Sasuke looks stricken with shock for a moment.

"Wait, you... _have_ seen him laugh, right?" he asks as delicately as he can.

Sasuke looks at him, seeming to zone back into the conversation. His silence is answer enough. 

There's a bit of sadness there that Naruto can detect, a sort of bitterness over a loss. 

"Well, I'm not really surprised." Sasuke glares at him almost instantly. Naruto waves his hands hurriedly. "I mean that in the best of ways! I don't think Itachi's the type to laugh when put in a normal setting."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Naruto pauses to look at the other patrons, making sure no one's listening. He leans in, cupping the side of his mouth. "I think... Itachi may be a _sadist,_ " he whispers.

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at him. " _What?_ "

Naruto chuckles nervously again, scratching at his cheek. "Ehe, it's kind of an embarrassing story."

"Huh." Sasuke crosses his arms to get comfortable, eyeing Naruto almost expectantly.

"Heh, you kinda sound like him when you laugh. All deep and husky and stuff."

"Then I'm not missing much." He sips on his water again. Naruto's starting to think it's some sort of nervous tick, but he can't really be too sure. The guy's so good at faking his impeccable standoffishness that everything he does looks calculated but natural, polished and waxed.

"Okay, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh."

"Hn." 

Naruto quirks his lips, aligning his ass more firmly in the cushion. "I won't tell why it happened..." he begins in a flurry. "Or what we were doing, because I don't want one of your colons to combust, but it involves... being in the wrong... _position._ "

Sasuke arches one of his perfectly groomed brows. 

"I, uh..." He titters, scratching at his cheek again. "Let's just say... I shot too hard and it got in my eye and it stung like a bitch and your brother laughed his ass off instead of getting me a wet paper towel."

Naruto has barely finished what he's said before Sasuke's already snickering into his hand and covering it with a hand, as if it hides it better. He feels his face heat up almost instantly. "Damn you, bastard! He laughed exactly like that! God, is this an Uchiha thing?" He crosses his arms petulantly, turning away and wishing he could be swallowed into a hole already. "You're all a bunch of sadists." At this point, Sasuke is stuffing his head into his arms because Naruto guesses he can't contain it anymore. "No, but seriously! It was terrible. All I could think about was that I had little babies swimming in my eye!" 

Sasuke's laughter escalates beyond the point that Naruto would've expected. It goes on like that for a while, with Sasuke slowly starting to regain control of himself, but then he glances at Naruto for a moment, and his laughter is back full force. When he feels like he might just rip Sasuke's head clean off his neck, the waitress comes around to drop off their food, and Sasuke is completely back to normal. He can never get over how quickly this guy can diffuse his second personality and put on his other persona. 

Though Naruto had been bitter about it initially, he's starting to think that maybe it really  _had_ been as funny as Sasuke made it sound. He giggles to himself, chewing on some of his food (which is very good, he has to admit. He doesn't know what it is, but it's still hellah good). He swallows it all before he can spew it across the table. "You know, for a second there, I thought you were some sort of robot sent here to ruin innocent peoples' lives." 

"And what do you think now?" Sasuke scoffs, twirling the tines of his fork into his pasta. 

"That as much as you hate it, you're just like the rest of us, asshole." 

Sasuke just smirks. "Hn."

*

Kakashi hates grocery shopping. He usually bugs one of his assistants into bearing the burden for him, but they all declined tonight, saying that they already had prearranged plans. But, that couldn't be possible unless they were all going to a party they never told him about, in which case, that just makes him even more miserable. 

He'll probably just end up making tonkatsu for himself because it takes forever to make, which in turn will take up more of his useless time; then he'll mope about eating it alone and have a pity party all to himself, so he guesses it's not too far off from what his colleagues are doing. After he's cleaned up half the kitchen (because the mess tends to spread like a fungus when it comes to making tonkatsu for himself), he'll draw some more panels for the next chapter. That is,  _if_ he feels up to it, which in most cases, he's not. 

He hears a bell chime up ahead, jolting him awake. 

"Why do you have to be such a dickhead all the time?" a familiar, peppy voice exclaims.

"Explain to me why we're going to buy ramen after having just eaten dinner." 

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours!"

"Dates don't work that way, idiot." 

Kakashi can only chuckle to himself. Naruto was at his antics again. From what he can see, this guy is new. He doesn't quite understand Naruto yet, but he's sure he will after a few more times of hanging out with him. It's hard not to ask for a second meeting after the first one's been dealt with-- _he_ would know. 

After meeting Naruto, breathing became easier.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in the car was "Someone New," by Hozier. Also, I tinkered and placed them in an Italian restaurant because tomatoes, and Sasuke loves tomatoes, according to canon, so... I'm just writing down what Kishi said *shrugs* Apologies for OOC-ness, overly gay bromance, and terrible cliffhangers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends!~ Sorry it took so long, but here it is. *ta-dah* Imagine the asterisks as pom-poms. It's cute as hell. Anyway, I got some FANTASTIC FUCKING NEWS! Someone made beautiful fanart of my filthy fanfic (chapter 10)-- http://maatthiaas.tumblr.com/post/124704448260/a-comic-of-probably-my-favorite-fanfiction-out 
> 
> Go look at it now!!!! It's fucking glorious and exactly how I imagined the scene to go. AARG WHY CAN'T I ART LIKE THAT-- Credit also goes to o0kaymawn0o, my older brother. I've mentioned him before in my earlier fics, and he's given me LOTS of inspiration for a lot of scenes in this fic, particularly the scene that the wonderfully talented maatthiaas has brought to life. His ideas are interspersed throughout this sacrilege of literature. Go check his shit out. *whispers* he writes DeanxSam stuff. Good shit. As quoted from the Free parody, 50% Off Haru, "Don't be a dick. Come on. Don't be an asshole," and as quoted from Nicki Minaj, "Check it out."

Icha Icha Paradise slips out of his fingers and lands square on his face at the same moment that his nose decides it needs to spray the pages with his mucus graffiti. He groans in distaste and slides it off his face with more-than-meager effort, his limbs like lead and his movements sluggish. 

The door bursts open with an exasperated sigh to accompany it and in comes Yamoto with a tray of steaming rice porridge, a perspiring glass of orange juice, and two neon-yellow tablets laid atop a perfectly triangular-folded napkin. "Sensei," he begins, placing the tray atop Kakashi's blanket-cocooned thighs. "What did I tell you about getting some proper rest?" 

Kakashi sniffles and forces himself to a slouch, glad that he's not so sick enough that his reflexes are hindered useless when he's able to catch the spoon ready to nose-dive off his tray. "That reading erotica and getting a boner isn't going to make me feel better," he drones, spooning himself some of the porridge and blowing some of the steam off. 

Yamato clears his throat, smoothing the frilly, pink apron that Kakashi got him last year as a gag gift. "No, Sensei. I said that in order to get proper rest, you need to rest  _every thing_. That doesn't exclude your eyes." 

"Eye," he corrects, pointing at the grey, knitted headband covering his abnormal left eye. "And same difference, ne?"

"If you want to take it that way; whichever makes you feel better. Literally," Yamato expresses, striding over to his bedside table to snatch the book away from Kakashi's potential clutches. "I'll be taking custody of this. In the meantime, I'm giving you your edited manuscripts. I hope you'll do something meaningful with it." He eyes him ominously.

Kakashi nervously chuckles into a fist. "Yes, mother," he chides. "That apron becomes you, you know." 

"I highly suggest finishing your food and taking your pills instead of teasing me, Senpai."

"Hoh, you haven't called me that for a while now. You only do it when you're truly worried." Kakashi does as he's told, sipping on some juice before downing the two pills in one take. He dabs at his sternum, feeling an oncoming burp, and laughs. "How long ago was it again? Around when we were still in college?" 

Yamato instantly reddens at the face, clearing his throat again. "It was a slip of the tongue."

"Aww, it's okay, Yamato. I know you truly care about me underneath that tsundere guise." 

"You know who's  _supposed_ to be caring of you right now?" Yamato rounds on him and gives him that signature death glare. Kakashi has a hard time flinching away from it since he's stuck in bed this time around. "Uzumaki-san. I have to wonder where he is. You wouldn't have happened to run him off by overworking him, _right?_ " 

Kakashi waves his hands in an absolute, vetoing motion. "Oh, no, no. He's..." He stammers for an excuse that could possibly get Yamato's nose off his trail. The poor guy still has no clue as to who Naruto really is, but he guesses it's for the best, even though he knows that Yamato would never tell a soul. He'd just be extra vigilant, breathing down his neck even more than he already does to see that Kakashi isn't shirking off requisites of his job to get laid (which he already does, if he's to be frank here). "Naruto's a freelance model, so he's busy with all kinds of clients." He has to admit-- that wasn't too shabby. Flip a few words around, and Naruto's true job description would be unveiled. 

Yamato hums in consideration. He pauses for a moment to appraise Kakashi's supine disposition. Kakashi has to force himself not to roll his eyes. "Well, I'll still give him a call. I'm sure he's worried."

"I'm fine!" he insists with forced civility. He cringes when he realizes how snappish and indignant that came out. 

Yamato raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms. 

"It's just the common cold."

"I would surmise that you're in this predicament now because you've been neglecting to complete even the most simple of tasks to stay alive," Yamato delivers with perfect accuracy. Kakashi stiffens just a little at how terrifyingly precise Yamato can be when analyzing him. That psychology degree of his definitely came deserved and with full credentials. "I'm calling Uzamaki-san if only to remind you that you have a lover who expects you to be living and breathing." 

Kakashi shrugs it off, handing him the tray, and placing his well-missed mask back onto the bottom portion of his face. He adjusts the velcro straps at the back of his head. "Yamato, I'm a fully functional adult who can take care of himself. Naruto will only be bothered," he says, his voice a bit muffled now. 

Yamato sighs, a little defeated. "I'll just shoot him a message. He'll respond in whatever way he likes, I suppose." 

"As is his way," Kakashi chuckles, which quickly turns into a violent succession of coughs. Yamato hands the juice over, and Kakashi, in his fit of coughs, forgets that he has a mask on and successfully douses himself with it. "Shit," he mutters under his breath. 

Yamato panics, and scurries out of the room to retrieve him some towels, and a new shirt and mask. Painstakingly, Kakashi sheds his drenched long-sleeved, silken shirt by pulling it over his head instead of unbuttoning it. By the time Kakashi has wrestled the shirt off, Yamato is back with a miniature towel, a polka-dotted pajama shirt, and a surgical mask. Kakashi frowns.

"Were there no more fleece masks?" 

"Unfortunately, no," Yamato replies, a bit dejected himself, as he hands the towel and shirt over. "I can wash the ones in your basket now, if you'd like." 

"No, please don't trouble yourself. This mask will do." He refers to the flimsy surgical mask, and hates how translucent it feels. He'll hate it even more once it's situated loosely on his face. 

"Are you sure? I have time to spare."

"No, you don't. I know you have other manuscripts to collect today. I won't keep you." Kakashi hopes Yamato can see his smile underneath the mask. Usually, he would, and it probably won't be a problem with the pair he's got on today, anyhow. 

"Well..." Yamato begins reluctantly, "I'll check in on you every few hours to see how you're doing." 

"Yes, yes, mother," Kakashi teases, beginning to button his way up the pajama shirt. 

Yamato chuckles sardonically. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Sensei. I'll only be checking in to make sure you're healthy enough to get back on those overdue manuscripts." His smile is so saccharine that it becomes menacing, and it causes another shiver to shimmy down his spine. 

"Wah.... When did I get such a cold and unfeeling editor?" 

Yamato ignores the comment and makes a beeline for the door. "There's still some rice porridge left, so I put them in a red container in the fridge, bottom shelf. Don't forget to put a wet paper towel over the bowl if you heat it up in the microwave, Sensei." 

"I won't." Kakashi waves nonchalantly, hoping that his aura is enough to push the persistent mother hen out of his apartment. 

"If you want to take a bath, I already heated one up for you, too."

"Yes, Yamato..."

"Don't mistake the laundry detergent for bath bombs again," he quickly rushes in, poking his head back into the room. "And one last thing." The look he shoots Kakashi makes him feel nervous and guilty because it's the one he gives when he remembers Kakashi's inevitable condition. He can only avert his eyes (eye). "If you feel like that mask is going to set you off,  _please..._ " He hears the almost desperate plea in Yamato's voice, and Kakashi can't stomach it. "Don't hesitate to call me. I  _will_ get you a new one, one that's thicker and tighter."  _  
_

"You're blowing this out of proportion again, Yamato," Kakashi exhales. 

"I'm only being cautious."  _Because of my disorder,_ Kakashi finishes for him in his head. "We should want to be prepared for anything." He doesn't fail to notice the slight tightening of his jaw, how his hand slowly de-flowers into a fist, unbeknownst to Yamato himself. Kakashi smirks.  _He can be so overprotective, sometimes._

"I assure you that I have it under control." 

Yamato sighs, sounding somewhat relieved, if a bit doubtful. "I'm sure you do." He glances at his watch. "Well, I guess I should be heading out. Remember to call if anything happens." 

Kakashi nods along. 

Those terrifying eyes are again shooting laser beams through his head. " _Seriously,_ Kakashi-sensei. I can't imagine the amount of paperwork I'll have if I happened upon a dead corpse." His voice betrays no threat. Kakashi can only chuckle anxiously. 

When Yamato has finally gathered all his bearings, he strides for the door, only to stop and conspicuously clear his throat. "And get well soon,  _Senpai._ "

Kakashi won't admit how elated his heart felt at that one utterance of a word. He just waves him away with a smug "I always do," and Yamato, satisfied and assured enough, walks off and out of his apartment. 

When he hears the door click with an assured lock, he releases the sigh he's inadvertently kept inside for the duration that Yamato had been here. He's thankful for Yamato in so many aspects, but in some ways, he's still glad he's busy enough to stay away for a while. Those eyes always made him feel like he was going to piss himself. The downfalls of the silence, though, is the fact that he has only himself for company, which has never done him well mentally, and that there's nothing much to occupy his thoughts, besides the ones he tries to repress. 

Because he'd rather stew than look at another manuscript to bulldoze half a forest, and because he doesn't have a raunchy book to wile his hours away, Kakashi sits in mournful silence, staring at his socked toes, poking from underneath the blanket. If he's desperate enough, he'll call Guy, but the shounen mangaka was such a delirious mess when it came to deadlines, on top of being crazy on any normal day already.

Normally, he guesses he texts Yamato to pass the time because he knows he'll always answer with a saucy reply, but the situation doesn't require him at the moment. That, and Kakashi doesn't want the guy to experience cardiac arrest over stupid things that need no mentioning, at this point. He hasn't had a relapse in years, and he knows why.

He hears his phone vibrate a few inches from his thigh. Before he picks it up, he wipes his dripping nose with a swipe of his thumb, and gingerly lifts it to his ear. "Hello?" he rasps.

"Oh-- Holy shit..."

He quickly regrets accepting the call without looking at who it was. "Naruto," he sighs.

Naruto bursts into laughter on the other line. "I can't believe you're sick! Yamato wasn't kidding! I gotta see this."

Kakashi leans against his pillow, feeling a tiny bit elated. "Why does me being sick pique your interest so much, pray tell?" 

"Because you're _that_ guy who says 'I got lost on the path of life' as an excuse when you can't meet shitty deadlines. To see you committing to a lie like that-- I'm amazed," Naruto quips. Kakashi can see him leaning against any available surface right now, smug and patronizing. "Also, isn't there a saying that idiots can't catch colds?"

"Oh, then you better watch out. You might be catching whatever I have soon." 

"Shut up!" Naruto whines, and Kakashi can't help but laugh. 

Yes, he's glad for Yamato, and while Yamato protects him physically, Naruto is on the flip side of the coin, tending to his mental faculties and everything else emotional, without even intending to do it. He listens to Naruto rattle on and on, not processing anything, word after word coming in one ear and out the other, and he finds it soothing. Guy would do the same, but it oddly doesn't have the same effect. He surmises it's because Guy has a booming voice, the furthest thing you'd want to hear when wanting to avoid headaches. At least to Kakashi, that is. But he's getting side-tracked.

The point is, Naruto makes it easier to focus on nothing. Nothing, to Kakashi, is  _life._ It makes his lungs expand with the air he needs; it makes the looseness of the surgical mask a bearable, inconspicuous itch; it doesn't remind him of the ever-present feeling of water clogging his senses. 

The universe is quite ironic, though, in the way that it presents Naruto to his life. He remembers it vividly, only because it possesses the symbol of his nightmares-- that is to say, it had been the rain, but to put to it in more general terms, it had been a body of water. Water, since _the incident_ , had become a tainted entity to him-- again, quite ironic this universe was, because water is the very iconic vision of purification itself. 

Quick to huddle away from the onslaught of downpour, Kakashi had found himself enclosed in the smell of print and coffee. He hadn't found it to be such an unfortunate happenstance, despite the rain, to be in a bookstore because he was a notorious, erotic bookkeeper to begin with. He began to peruse through the aisles, just to have his mind wander. Keeping his mind occupied was a habit developed out of the disorder. It would be more accurate to say that it had become more of a nervous tick now. He ran his fingers across the spines of books, not particularly because he was looking for anything, but because it was nice to the touch. He already knew what he'd buy, anyway.  _  
_

Though he'd already bought himself three copies of the third Icha Icha Paradise already, he found himself buying two more, just because the first two copies were already getting worn and torn, hammered down with dog-ears and rips, and the third was getting to that point. What could he say? He was an avid fan who liked to reread the same works just because it catered to all his kinks and fetishes so well. The fourth book was to be coming out soon anyway, and he wanted to show his support for it in any way he could. 

He stood at the back of the line, books hidden away under an arm. When he was sure that they wouldn't be seen from any prying eyes, he decided to survey the front. Needless to say, he was going to be in here for quite a while, just because the rain was pushing more and more people into the store, and said people rushing in were disrupting the symmetry of the line.  

He remembers how the fingers stashed in his coat pocket were stuttering, how they reacted to the sound of falling rain, a constant reminder of his disorder, yet a protective mechanism; and how the tick of the clock was reminding him of the ticking bomb inside his body. 

Only then, as if a beacon at the end of the long, winding tunnel of his mind, did Kakashi find Naruto, standing with confidence and the most devious smirk and the most sinful pair of electric-blue eyes-- staring up at him, looking as if the world wouldn't implode unless he had something to do with it. He'd cocked his head to the side, peering down at Kakashi's books, and then back up to his face, an arched eyebrow verbalizing the trademark _I-know-your-secret._

Kakashi had felt his heart stutter, along with his fingers. 

"'When in Rome, do as the Romans do,' right?" 

Kakashi had smirked, quite impressed, growing ever-more intrigued by him, because he was oddly reminding him of a character he'd long been wanting to implement in one of his new manga. He tried to hide the excitement he felt. "Do I really stick out like a sore thumb?"

"Not really. Let's just say I've had my fair share of perverted uncles-- _also,_ a perverted grandpa. I have a gaydar for perverts, I guess."

Kakashi could remember how overwhelming it felt to have the object of your money-making imagination standing in front of him in the flesh, how he almost wanted to just swoop Naruto in his arms and hug the daylights out of him, and beg him to become his model; beg him to chin up, and swerve it slightly to the left, so he can see the contours of his nose, the angles of his cheekbones; he'd sketch it out perfectly, because that  _angle_ was perfect. But instead of bowing to his knees, he stood upright, zeroed in. He remembered thinking there was a more efficient way to go about this. 

"You don't say?" Though Kakashi would normally pride himself in saying that he was a good person at heart, and that he would only ever use this statement to goad the conversation on with playful banter-- that day, he was using it as a segue for blackmail material. He'd seen Naruto around before, running around the park and walking in and out of hotels, alleyways, patches of thick bushes and shrubs; he'd read enough books to know what kind of funny business he was up to. 

Naruto had lifted the manga books in his hands so that Kakashi could peer at them briefly. "I also read a lot of ninja books. Nice mask, by the way. Hiding something, or are you just shy?"

Kakashi chuckled. "Neither. I'm just a trendsetter."

"Heh, you have a long way to go, buddy."

"Glad to hear that someone sees that my work is cut out for me."

The ding of the cashier grew ever-present, and the line shifted forward. Naruto had startled a little, digging in his pocket for a wad of cash-- an immensely  _huge_ wad of cash-- and Kakashi wasn't one to miss it. Kakashi's persuasive and manipulative counterpart had reared its ugly head, not missing a beat, going in for the kill. "That's quite a jackpot. Win the lottery?" 

Naruto had stiffened ever so slightly. "Ah-ha! No, I'm just a successful waiter. That's all." 

" _Really_ successful, from what I can see. Where do you work?"

"I-I work at this fancy restaurant. Ya know, the new one by that old supermarket? Nothing special."

"Oh, that's great! I come by there often." Blatant lie, of course. "What's your name?"

Naruto had grown flustered at this point, sputtering and smacking his wad of bills into the cashier's palm. "S-Suzuki." Blatant lie, one that Kakashi could smell from a mile away. 

"Oh, I've never seen you around there, Suzuki-kun. New, I'm presuming?" 

"Yeah, yeah! I-uh, I don't have a credit card set up-- I mean, debit card. So, they're just handing me hard cash. Actually, this money has been saved up for quite a while now. Been wanting to get new manga, y'know?" Blatant lie after blatant lie. He remembers comparing it to to an arena of ping-pong, passing the ball back and forth. 

Naruto had kept spewing whatever just came to mind, pouring so much that the lie just overflowed, and Kakashi could taste it on his tongue like pure fool's gold. He'd surmised that Naruto was probably new at this; didn't know how to fib the way that an adult knew how. As the line inched closer, Kakashi grew impatient. He'd _wanted_ for Naruto to be his model for one of the voluptuous girls in his manga oh-so- _badly._   

Before Naruto could sprint out of there, he'd clapped him on the shoulder with a firm hand, smile inconspicuous behind the mask. "Well, then Suzuki-kun-- 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do.' Isn't that right?"

Naruto had peered up at him strangely, suspicion in his eyes. "Uh, yeah?"

"Right-- you said so yourself, after all. And when in Rome," he began, forking over some yen to the cashier as she hurried to finish their transaction. He lowered his voice so that only Naruto could hear him. "When in Rome, good, law-abiding boys earn hard cash through lawful means." At this, Naruto had instantly become resistant and rigid, tugging at his arm ever so subtly. Kakashi had taken the bought books in one hand, and then raised the other in a form of nonverbal peace to reach out to him. "Don't be scared. I'm just a good Samaritan, hoping to pay his bills on time by the next month, asking for help from another good Samaritan." 

Naruto had raised his eyebrow, confused. "Well, whattaya want?" 

 _And the ping-pong game was set._ "Let's just say you'd look good in leather."

Luckily, Naruto had had an umbrella, or else he would've flared up on the spot under all that rain. He'd been slightly pushy with Naruto, rushing him into a cab so that they could make it to his apartment complex in record time, his fingers stuttering with the excitement of running his fingers down those lines, instead of anxiety. 

When they made it back home, he skipped going the fire escape route, and fast walked instead into one of the elevators in the building. Naruto had been hot on his heels, animatedly talking about power bottoms, or whatever else, and how he'd never been into S&M before. Kakashi didn't have the slightest clue, and he had the foggiest memory of it. 

In the welcoming arms of his air-conditioned home, Kakashi had shrugged off his coat, and nearly jogged to his study to get the materials he needed, he was so _thrilled._  When he'd come back, Naruto was seated on his couch, marveling at Kakashi's amenities, the golden flush of his walls, the neatness of the space (because he hadn't bothered to determinedly decorate the place to mark it as his own). His eyes were a look of pure wonder until they landed on the leather-maid costume dangling from his hand. "All right, Suzuki-kun! The bathroom is down the hallway, third door to the right." 

Naruto had blinked owlishly at him, uncomprehending. "What's with all the pencils and paper?" 

"Ah, yes! I'll be drawing you in this." 

"And?"

"And I'll be paying for it. Here..." Kakashi had easily swerved around his coffee table, carefully bestowing the money into Naruto's awaiting palm. "In case you were wondering if I was going to renege."

"But... you're  _just_ going to draw me?" He'd sounded so incredulous, like Kakashi was growing two horns right in front of him. 

"Mm-hm. Perhaps you were hoping for something else, Suzuki-kun?" Kakashi had said that with a little more of a tease than he'd meant. 

"Nope! You got it, boss! If that's all you want, then by all means." Naruto quickly divested Kakashi of the dress. 

It hadn't taken long for Naruto to return, and by the time he did, his original persona was gone, and in its place was a fiery raunchiness, more than likely caused by the feminine confidence evoked by the dress. He was easy to command, accommodating and inventive in his poses. Granted, Kakashi hadn't yet owned a long, blond wig to accentuate Naruto's femininity, but with his artistic expertise, he was able to improvise something on paper. The character was coming out cheeky and salacious, playful and vixen-like, the way he'd originally intended. But the more he continued to replicate facsimile after facsimile of Naruto's rather flexible poses, the more the character divulged from his prior intentions, and the more it became solely Naruto, up to the point where the "she" on paper became a "he." 

He'd been outlining the the lower rims of Naruto's eyes, when Naruto began to laugh. He was saying something about how this reminded him of a scene he'd seen once in a movie. Only, the movie didn't include such a lewd dress. "Titanic," Kakashi had helpfully inputted. 

"Titanic," Naruto repeated wistfully. 

After a while, Naruto had begun complaining about his joints, and how he needed a break. Kakashi flipped through his sketchpad, and it was filled with multiple drawings of Naruko (that's what he now dubbed her), and Naruto himself. He'd conceded at that point because he was feeling famished himself. 

He remembers retreating into his kitchen, and making both of them some ramen (he was quite surprised to hear that Naruto was enamored with it more than the average man). Kakashi had asked him a few questions, like when Naruto started living such a lifestyle, and whatnot. It didn't take long for Naruto to divulge a few key pieces of his life, but nothing past when he came down to Tokyo. He'd lived here for only a year, he'd said. Said that he was getting by in his own way, and Kakashi could only admire him for it. 

Admired him so much, and sympathized with him so much that Kakashi hadn't had the heart to send him out into the merciless rain. He'd offered his bed, but Naruto objected and so to the couch he took, and Kakashi was powerless to stop him. While Naruto snoozed in the living room, snoring up a storm louder than the one outside, Kakashi was engrossed in comparing sketch between sketch, sipping tepid coffee between minutes; and that was where they remained for the majority of the night. He says it's the majority, because for the sliver piece of four in the morning, Kakashi's PTSD flared and it took both of them by surprise. 

He remembers startling awake, feeling goose flesh sprouting on any available surface of his skin, overpopulating it, and sweat dripping down his back in torrents; the stickiness of spilled coffee, invading his mask; his throat closing up, nasal cavity flaring with more than a thousand bee stings, reminiscent of invading water ( _"It's all in your head-- the water isn't actually there.")_ ; his eyes stinging due to bated breath; lungs spasming; reaching for his inhaler ( _"This inhaler doesn't contain any invasive medication. It's only to calm you down; to remind you how to breathe, Kakashi-kun."_ ); he sees it in his direct periphery, under the lampshade by the couch; and in his haste, he rushes for it, before the water overtakes his senses, his knee jamming into the corner of his coffee table, but the agony couldn't compete with the one in his head ( _"It's called post-traumatic stress disorder-- PTSD. Anything relating to the event can trigger these symptoms. In some cases, it's unavoidable."_ )

He recalls Naruto waking up in a daze, staring after him as he fights the sweat; tears his shirt off, uncaring that he'll see a few pink and white scars; his mask ( _"Hold the oxygen mask to your face, son. Make sure it's secure and tight.That's it. Breathe in and out."_ ); the headband covering his eye ( _"You'll be partially blind in this eye, Kakashi-kun. It is, unfortunately, a result of the accident."_ ); he didn't care as he sucked in gulps after gulps of air from the inhaler ( _"Breathe, Kakashi-kun! Please don't die..."_ ); gulps and gulps; gulps and gulps. 

Naruto had immediately taken to his side, massaging at his back, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, barely batting an eyelash. He remained there, and rode out the wave with him, unquestioning, like a boulder, and that was where Kakashi's anchor laid. He'd tucked his head under Naruto's chin, wringing his hands in his pajama jeans, clutching the inhaler as if it were his lifeline-- and in some cases, it was. Once his hyperventilation died down, Naruto took his face in his hands, smudging the creases away from his forehead, his cheeks. "Keep breathing. Even if it's painful." 

He'd known Naruto close to about six hours. That was what he kept thinking about as they stared into each other's eyes. Six hours didn't warrant staying behind in a stranger's home to comfort said stranger when under a mental relapse, but here he was. "Keep breathing," Naruto would repeat.

Kakashi didn't know when  _breathing_ became synonymous to Naruto's lips. Naruto hadn't backed away, despite being taken by surprise, meeting his tidal wave with every push and pull, rocking with him, until the wave crashed and overtook them both under the current, violent and excessive, a cesspool of uncontrolled and rampant surges. He took Naruto's every breath away, stealing them and hoarding them, keeping them to himself. 

Naruto welcomed him in with no resistance, lulling under his current, every undulation of his hips driving him mad, but it was a madness that he never knew he craved till then. ( _"Heh. I dare ya to drive your old man's truck. Chicken?" "Stop it, Obito! That's reckless." "Come on, Rin. We're all fourteen here. Kakashi can make his own decisions! So make one! Chicken or_ not?") Naruto clutched at his shoulders, moaning into his mouth, arching his back as he received all of Kakashi, violence, guilt, and all. ( _"I'll do it." "Yeeeah! I call shotgun!" "You idiots! Go ahead. See if I care!"_ )

"Hah-- I-I'm coming!" Naruto had gasped, tightening and coiling. Kakashi swallowed his moans. They were quickly becoming his elixir. ( _"Kakashi! Listen to me! The water's going to fill this car in a fucking minute! Get out of here!" "I'm not leaving without you, Obito!"_ ) Kakashi's lungs were filling with the air he needed, at last. ( _"My foot is stuck. If you don't get out now, we're both gonna die! Swim up there and get Rin! I'll be fine!"_ ) He hadn't felt such a high in the longest time. He remembers basking in it, clinging to Naruto's skin, and kissing his shoulder to make up for his brutality. Naruto didn't even have to forgive him. "There's nothing to forgive." ( _"Kakashi-kun! Your eye! W-where's Obito?" "Call... 119, Rin. We still have time."_ ) 

Naruto stared up at him, panting, tracing the jagged scar that ran down his left eye. "Your eye is fucking cool," he'd said in their afterglow. It was the first time anyone had ever said that to him. ( _"Do you think if Obito were still alive, he'd think my eye was cool?"_ ) "By the way, what's your name?" ( _"He'd be excruciatingly jealous." )_

Kakashi had chuckled despite himself, slumping against Naruto's form. "Kakashi Hatake. Yours?" 

Naruto scoffed. "You knew all along? Well, it's Naruto, since you asked so nicely." 

"How much will I have to pay you, Naruto-kun?" 

"Please. We just had sex. Drop the -kun." 

Kakashi remembers smiling so hard that it began to hurt. "How much, Naruto?"

Naruto just cupped his face, bringing their lips together in blissful unity. "Gimme one of the drawings you made and we'll call it even."

And that was how he met Naruto, breathless and mad. 

Kakashi stares at the smart-phone in his hand, lazily watching as the minutes go by. Any second now, and Naruto will come bursting through the door.

All too soon, he hears clattering in the living room, announcing Naruto's all-too-familiar entry. That is, his window from the fire escape. He honestly should've expected it, and he feels disappointed that he didn't.

"Yoo, Kakashi-sensei! I brought you some celery." Naruto pokes his head around the doorframe, dangling a plastic bag from his fingers. "Also!" he pipes in, almost as an after-thought. "I got you a little present." Naruto flourishes a brand new edition of the eighth book of Icha Icha Paradise from the plastic bag, and Kakashi feels woozy. "Who's the greatest friend in the world?" He points to himself as he proffers the book.

Kakashi takes it into his hands gingerly, marveling at the lecherous cover, careful not to cough on it. "Thank you, Naruto. You really didn't have to."

"Eh. I felt generous today. Also, why do you have that ugly mask on your face?" Naruto gestures to his surgical mask.

"The fleece masks are all dirty, unfortunately."

"Damn, Kakashi-sensei. You really need to up your game, today."

"I would, but Mother Yamato has me under a rather strict watch."

Naruto giggles. "Should've figured. I'll wash some for you."

"No, really, it's--,"

"--Not fine. Just sit down and take a breather." Naruto winks at him knowingly. If Kakashi didn't know any better, he'd refer Naruto to the nearest psychology university in Tokyo right now.  

Kakashi concedes defeat, waving him away, and Naruto smiles, going off to create a racket in his laundry room. He'll later find the place flooded with soap and bubbles. 

As Kakashi sits in silence again, staring at his socked toes poking out from under the blanket, he thinks of the water-- the water that took Obito away and the water that brought him Naruto. It may engulf him from time to time, but there are certainly some people in this world that keep him afloat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuugh!~ That took forever to write. This is by the far the most difficult chapter I've ever had the pleasure of finishing. There are two pasts I had to write about in this chapter-- the past where he meets Naruto, and the past that explains why Kakashi wears a mask and why he has PTSD. I hope things aren't too innacurate and confusing. Shit, it even confused me, and I'm the writer. 
> 
> The song I listened to as I wrote the two of them fucking was Demons by Fatboy Slim. You'll understand if you've watched Sense8 (cough season 1 ep 6 cough orgy cough don't watch in the living room cough). Have a lovely day, children!~


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hi guys! Remember me? Here I am with another chapter made up of a cryptic fucking timeline :DDDD Sorrrrrrrry...

Before Gaara’s fourteenth birthday, two days before the colorful and gaudy garlands were strung across the pavilion right next to the main house, before he could wish on yet another addition of a candle on his chocolate cake, his world fell apart like a house of cards.

*

“This drawing is amazing,” his mother cooed, pointing at the symbolic swirls and golden dots. “One day, your talent will be recognized by everyone in the world, Gaara, believe me.” She’d rolled up her sleeves, showing off her thin arms, as if she’d force the promise onto everyone until it became fact, as if she could get out of this bed—but all the same, Gaara’s eyes had widened to impossible proportions and he was smiling so much that he thought he could never smile again.

They’d talked some more, but all of the conversations particularly centered around his dreams, how he’d love to make something that would stay with his mother forever— it didn’t matter if anyone else saw it or not, it was for her eyes alone—but then it was those troublesome coughs again. The ones that painfully reminded him that his mother was on this bed, within these immaculate white walls, veins throbbing with the realization that invading needles were there to keep her heart beating, hair thinning with its brittleness and that patch of white scarring where the knife had made an incision in an attempt to save her, that incessant beeping that reminded him that she could never be left alone.

He’d stood back as the nurses swarmed the room, calm in their panic, as they tried to bring her back to him. Kankuro and Temari would clutch at his shoulders, knuckles painfully white and taut—he didn’t realize they’d come in—and they would lead him out of the room.

“Mom’s just… having a bad day,” Temari would tell him. Neither she nor Kankuro ever told him everything was going to be fine, but that had been okay for him, because somewhere deep inside his pre-pubescent, eight-year-old heart, he knew that it was never going to be all right.

It was a sad truth that life would continue on, even if his mother’s wouldn’t.

She’d drifted off into a sound sleep without him ever getting the chance to say, “Good night,” like she’d always do for him when he’d sneak in and stay with her in the hospital room after midnight when visitors weren’t allowed anymore. It was the kind of sleep that made it even more difficult to say goodbye because she was still alive, and if she was still alive, she could open her eyes again one day, and Gaara never wanted her be awake in a world that didn’t believe in her. It was a kind of sleep that made hope claw at the back of his head. It was a God that resided there, giving him the strength to pray and hope and believe, but sometimes, it was a taunting demon, staunching any and all faith, like a stopper to the neck of a bottle.

Because while his mother stayed asleep, he would stay awake, watching the IV drip life into her veins, a sort of rope that tethered her to this plane, that if taken out, she’d inevitably drift off and away from him to the sky.

It had gotten to the point that he’d just skip school altogether and visit his mother instead, clutching at her dangerously translucent fingers, wondering when the warmth would come back (because without her, the world would just be a frigid blizzard).

His father had been furious with him, but Gaara wondered if there was ever a time where his father hadn’t been. He’d called in a tutor because keeping him under a strict watch would be easier (luckily, it had been his precious uncle, Yashamaru. He couldn’t stomach anyone else).

It was always quiet in the house, and the only exception to that were the maids shuffling between rooms to dust away at nothing, narrowly gossiping under their breaths _(“The Third mistress has fallen quite ill.” “Such an unkind way to go. After all the mistreatment she endured under his previous wives.” “She was fragile from the start.” “Poor girl.” “Yes, and very young.” “Poor, poor, child.”_ ), and the occasional visitor for his father. Temari, and sometimes Kankuro, would usher him into a different room when these things happened.

He’d heard his father talking to a client once about his mother, though, when Temari and Kankuro weren’t home. The conversation had been strictly business until said client brought up “ane-san,” his mother, and the sour frown on his father’s face got even sourer. “She’s comatose at the moment. The tumor in her brain has begun to metastasize, and the doctors believe taking it out will be even more detrimental to her health than letting it stay.”

“The children…” There had been an unspoken question.

His father had quickly picked up on it.

“Kankuro’s been focusing on leading the men. He still has that curious interest in face paint, but he hasn’t strayed. The same could be said about Temari. She’s ranked the highest in business all year.”

“She’ll be quite an asset to your son once he succeeds you.”

“She will be.”

“And… your other son?”

Gaara remembered biting his lip in bated breath.

“Gaara?” his father had said, as if an addendum he’d never even considered. “He’s been diagnosed with clinical anxiety and depression. He won’t speak and all he focuses on are those drawings of his. His mother has coddled him too much.”

“That’s quite a predicament, boss.”

His father hadn’t deigned to deny it.

“I’m sure your father’s just worried. He’ll come around—you’ll see!” Yashamaru attempted to reassure him later on that day. Gaara nodded, hoping that he was right.

As the days, weeks, months wore on, Gaara began seeing prospects of such a statement invalid. Every dinner, his father wouldn’t even converse, much less look at him. But it was probably because he had been visiting his mother prior to eating, and that never sat well with his father, for some strange reason. He couldn’t remember a time he ever did visit her.  Temari and Kankuro didn’t seem to have any quarrels with that, so he didn’t say much on the topic either.

It wasn’t as if his experiences at that house were unpleasant. Temari was always there to run her fingers through his hair to calm him down in times of stress, and Kankuro was always there to talk art with. Even Uncle Yashamaru accompanied him from time to time when he wasn’t off doing something with his internship.

And his father, well, he wasn’t too terrible as much as he was just physically and emotionally vacant. He was drowned in work, but he found that fine, because it wasn’t as if his father hated him. His father knew he existed, and his father tended to his every need if ever he asked. To Gaara, being loving was different from being affectionate, and his father was simply that—he was not affectionate. That’s just how he always was, and Gaara had stopped hoping for any change, because according to his mother, love was something that overlooked imperfections.

*

“Come ooon! How long does it take to put on some eyeshadow and lipstick?” Kankuro whines. Gaara snorts at how petulant it comes out.

Temari sufficiently ignores him, applying more mascara onto her lashes. “Just because you only take five minutes doing your face paint doesn’t mean I have to. Tell him, Gaara.” She nudges him with her elbow nonchalantly.

Gaara merely shrugs. “My eyeliner takes me two minutes.”

Kankuro harrumphs triumphantly. “See?”

“Oh, geez.” Temari rubs at her temples with a self-deprecating sigh. “When I tell you to ‘tell him’ something, you stay on my side, Gaara. Don’t inflate his already-enlarged ego.”

Gaara just shrugs again, and continues stroking a few lines on his draft. He’s not entirely sure where he’s going with it, mostly just winging it for the sake of something to do, to keep his mind preoccupied before they have to huff it to the jeep and drive for God knows how long. It’s starting to weirdly resemble a wild animal of some sort. He can only identify triangular ears, at the moment.

Kankuro clicks under his tongue, glaring down at the watch precariously placed on his right wrist. “Temari, it’s almost two. Mom’s probably sobbing at how late we are.”

“Mom’s not going anywhere, anyhow. We’ll close up shop, grab some flowers, get her favorite chocolates, and we’ll be on our way. She’ll be glad we came, regardless.”

Gaara zones them out, and the drawing begins to morph into something more identifiable, concrete yet abstract. He uses the eraser at the tip of his pencil to make the lines more precise and bold, and blows across the page to get rid of all the pesky, little particles. He has a feeling that this one will also be hung on one of his bedroom walls, among many others.

*

“What are you drawing there, Gaara?” Yashamaru had asked, hovering over his shoulder like some elegant, ironically guiltless vulture.

Gaara had immediately covered the drawing with his entire body, hiding a playful smile beneath the shroud of his protective—albeit small—arms. Yashamaru chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Is it something that even I can’t see?”

Gaara nodded vigorously.

“Oh, I hope it’s nothing too shameful! At least tell me it’s nothing for me to have to scold you over,” Yashamaru playfully begged him, tickling at his sides, but Gaara determined that despite that, he would not budge. “Ah, geez,” his uncle sighed, on the precipice of defeat. “Gaara’s finally reached that stage where he wants to hide things from me. That makes me… so sad.”

At this, Gaara slightly tensed, and his resolve began to crumble like cookie crumbs, like half-sunken ships in his favorite mug, filled to the brim with lukewarm milk. He clutched at his uncle’s shirt, shaking his head side to side, willing for him to understand that, “No! I didn’t mean to make you sad! This thing isn’t bad at all, promise!”

Yashamaru had just chuckled, ruffling at his hair again, surrounding him in the warmth of his strong but gentle embrace. “I was just kidding. It’s okay if you don’t want to show me.”

Gaara had peered into his eyes, trying to gauge the truthfulness behind it while also trying to convey in his own eyes that it was fine, Yashamaru could look at anything that was Gaara’s, he wouldn’t mind at all, in fact, he would insist upon it. He gingerly slid the drawing off of the work desk, and ceremoniously shoved it near enough to nick Yashamaru’s nose. 

He didn’t say anything for a while, but Gaara waited patiently. It was amateur, of course, and he was far from artistic genius, but he poured his whole heart into it, and he was hoping it would reach Yashamaru in all of the immature skips and lines, all of the inexperienced dots and dashes, the miniscule imperfections, the colossal perfection of mediocrity.

He felt the first two fingers around his waist tighten, ever so slightly, and then he was engulfed in Yashamaru’s full embrace again, inhaling his scent in almost uncomfortable clarity, with the first teardrops sliding down his cheek.

It takes a muffled sniffle from Yashamaru for Gaara to realize that today, he is not the one crying and not the one needing comfort and consolation. He patted Yashamaru’s back, in a facsimile of the way Yashamaru would always try and cheer him up, not sure why there was such an emotional outburst, especially when Yashamaru saw his drawings all the time.

Gaara had looked down at his drawing, which was now on the floor, lying face-up, most likely flicked out of his hands at the sheer momentum of the hug which Yashamaru had swooped him into. It was just a drawing out of sheer dreams and fantasy. But as Yashamaru continued to sob on his shoulder, and he continued to stare at the drawing, trying to puzzle the pieces together, he began to realize that it was _because_ it was drawn out of sheer dreams and fantasy that Yashamaru was crying so hard.

“It’s really beautiful, Gaara,” Yashamaru had whispered, his voice so awed yet so sad that Gaara realized he was not yet, in fact, immune to sudden bouts of tears.

It was just a silly nine year old’s drawing of his mom surrounded by her family.

*

“What do you want for your birthday, Gaara?” Temari had asked him. He just shrugged, not out of humbleness or vagueness, but out of sheer cluelessness. He’d honestly not been thinking about it, considering his exams were looming on the horizon like a clamorous train.

“Oh, yeah, your birthday’s coming up, Gaara! Pick anything out! Your brother’s got ya covered!” Kankuro jammed a prideful thumb towards himself.

“Figures you’d forget,” Temari sighed.

“Oh, shut it. At least this year I found out ahead of time.”

“Only because of me!”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to. Now, come on, Gaara! Tell us. We got all the money in the world.”

Gaara pondered it for a moment. It didn’t take him long to figure out what he wanted though. He opened his mouth to say so, at the excitement of both his sister and brother, and as he was about to release the very gift he wanted with a whoosh of air from his lips, the thought quickly died, and the smile he wore died with it too.

His siblings hadn’t missed the telltale slump of his shoulders.

Temari cocked her head to the side. “Gaara?”

He turned his head away, and began drawing again, defining the dragon’s scales some more. “Maybe some more sketchbooks,” he uttered, barely audible even to his own ears.

Temari and Kankuro had looked at each other, confusion set in their eyes, but seemed to think better of asking anything about his little lapse in quietness again.

“Sketchbooks again, Gaara? We got you that last year!” Kankuro chuckled.

“It’s fine. Just get more of them for me again. Lots of them.”

After all, even with all the money in the world, there’s no way they could ever wake their mom up from her induced slumber of seven years.

* 

Before he could turn fourteen, his family fell apart.

He’d heard the news right after he came back from school. It wasn’t from Temari. It wasn’t from Kankuro. It wasn’t even from the gossiping old ladies that swept the rooms every now and then. It was from Yashamaru’s heartbreakingly pained sobs in the main room, wailing at a loss that he couldn’t seem to envision.

“How could you do this?” he’d shouted at his father, his father who was sitting poised and proper on his desk, unwavering, unaffected. “Wasn’t she your wife? Didn’t you love her?”

His father didn’t respond, and Gaara could only think of two reasons why. Either it was because he wanted to save face in front of his brother-in-law, or because he felt that such questions couldn’t be dignified with any response because they meant so little to his person.

“What about the kids? Oh, God--,” he’d gasped, clutching at his forehead, as if in sudden dawning. He shook his head side to side, almost as if wishing he hadn’t even realized it. “What about Gaara?”

 _What about me,_ he’d questioned himself, grasping at his uniform.

“This’ll break his heart… Oh, this will…”

His father looked about to ready to finally say something, and then the door from Gaara’s side creaked a little bit and that was enough to announce his presence. He stumbled back, not because he was found eavesdropping, but because of the forlorn looks on their faces, even from his father, who always seemed to never wear expression.

“What happened to Mom?” He wasn’t accusatory. He wasn’t angry. He was confused, a young boy trying to gauge the atmosphere of the room, afraid to hear the answer, but an answer he was too painfully curious to evade, especially in terms of him.

His father stood up, the squeal of the chair deafening, and as he approached, Gaara forced himself to believe that _being loving was different from being affectionate—his father was simply that: not affectionate._

So why was it that the look in his eyes were so torn up, finally taking on the form of a proper father instead of a sturdy boss leading packs of illegal, hungry men? Why was it that the pat on his shoulder was firm in its silent affection, at the moment that the words that left his father’s mouth was so ruthless and unfeeling?

“I pulled the plug on your mother, Gaara.”

*

Before Gaara’s fourteenth birthday, two days before the colorful and gaudy garlands were strung across the pavilion right next to the main house, before he could wish on yet another addition of a candle on his chocolate cake, his world fell apart like a house of cards.

*

“Has he eaten at all?”

“No. He hasn’t even peeked out of his room to check that food’s been there. It’s been three days.”

“He’s gonna starve to death.”

“Stop it. We don’t need any more negativity.”

“Well, I’m just stating it like it is. He needs to get out of his damn room to at least chew on something for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Kankuro. You don’t know what he’s going through right now.”

“Fuck you, Temari. If you haven’t noticed, I lost a mother too! Sorry if positivity’s not shooting out my ass like yours is!”

“Like hell it is! Don’t act like this isn’t affecting me too! I… I-I’ve been trying not to cry, you asshole, b-but you’re making it so h-hard for me. I miss her, y’know?”

“Temari… God, I’m sorry, okay? C’mere.”

“I’m worried about him. I wish Uncle Yashamaru could be here. He always knew what to do when it came to Gaara.”

“I know, I know. But… we can’t bother him right now. He’s mourning, too.”

“You know what I wish?”

“What?”

“I wish Mom were here.”

“Yeah… me, too.”

_Me, too._

*

“Kankuro and I are leaving the house. Would you like to come with us, Gaara?”

He had peered up from his drawing—hah, if it could even be called that anymore—and stared at his sister, a vacant look on his face. He hadn’t slept in what felt like two years, but maybe that actually wasn’t an exaggeration. He sighed.

“Does Father know?”

She harrumphed bitterly. “Like it matters. He doesn’t give a fuck about us, anyway.”

“What would we do?”

_How would we survive?_

Temari seemed to have guessed what he meant by it. “Kankuro suggested we do a tattoo shop. I mean, besides hustling people for money, it’s the next best thing we know. I got that useless degree in business. Might as well put it to good use, right? Kankuro will take care of the rest.”

“Do you want me to go to school?”

_What about me? Are you going to force me to be happy by freeloading off of you?_

“That’s for you to decide. Kankuro thinks you shouldn’t have to. He even wants to teach you the ways of the needle from the get-go. You have the talent for it. But I wanted to leave the decision up to you.”

He scribbles something into his inky, black mess of a drawing, but begins to identify a few eyes.

“I want to tattoo.”

_I want to continue drawing._

Temari just smiled, leaning against the door frame. “I thought so.”

*

“Oi, Gaara, what’cha been drawing there?”

He glances up from his sketchbook and eyes Kankuro, who had been staring at him through the rearview mirror. Temari looks up from her phone, curious.

“I don’t know yet.” He swipes his hand across the page, trying to make out the figure through all of the smudges and eraser shavings. He hands Temari the sketchbook, who had already been at the ready for it. She always seemed to know what he was drawing with a simple glance.

“Hmm,” she hums, rubbing at her chin.

“What is it?” Kankuro asks, trying to peer over Temari’s lap. Temari instinctively catches his chin, and turns it towards the window.

“Eyes on the road, doofus,” she warns him. He harrumphs. “Well, it kinda looks like a fox, Gaara. Pretty cool one, too, even with its nine tails.”

Gaara feels stunned for a moment. “Oh.” He fondles the page, and immediately knows why he must’ve drawn it.

“By the way, what did Naruto say again? That he was just gonna meet us there? I told him it’d be cheaper going with us,” Kankuro says.

“Nooo,” Temari drawls. “He said he wants us to pick him up. Turn left now, clown-face, you’re gonna miss his house.”

“Oooh! Well, then. That makes more sense,” he chuckles.

Gaara has already tuned them out though. He can’t wait to show Naruto what he’s drawn this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! This is not the end of Gaara's backstory. Honestly, his backstory was going to be only one chapter like the others, but as I continued to write the chapter, I realized, "Shit, Gaara's backstory is much more complicated and deeper than I initially planned it to be." So... now you get this weird cliffhanger (??? tbh, idk whether it's even qualified as a cliffhanger but whatevs). Again, sorry for the delay, guys. My writing has worn away with time, as you can see, because I kinndda lost inspiration... ahem. See you in the next one, hopefully *thumbs up*


	13. Chapter 13

“Hmm, let’s see… I got my wallet, my water bottle, some flowers,” Naruto mumbled, patting around his pockets. “Okay, got my keys, and then fed Kyuubi—great! I’m all set, you guys!” he quipped, shooting them a thumbs-up and then resolutely carving a place next to Gaara in the backseat.

Temari slaps her forehead with exasperation, and Kankuro pulls at the corners of his eyes. “Naruto, please tell us that’s all that needs to be checked…” Temari seethes. Gaara resists the urge to snort.

“I promise that’s it! This is a long drive and I do _not_ need to be stressing over things that I can control now,” he insisted, tugging on his time-worn seatbelt and slightly struggling. Kankuro, for some unfathomable reason, liked to take his 2004 Volkswagen Jetta on road trips to “test its durability through these enduring years.” Temari has always insisted that it was just a recipe for a very painful and very inevitable disaster, but since Kankuro is obsessed with the car’s upkeep anyway and she never could find anything faulty with the engine, she resigned herself to said recipe—on the condition that he was the one to drive for the whole seven hours. It had become tradition at this point.

“Besides,” Naruto interjects. “Would you rather I complain about it now or complain about it halfway through the ride? ‘cause then I’d be begging you to drive back so I can change it, y’know?”

Kankuro huffs, turning the key in the ignition. “Even if that were the case, there’s no way I’d drive us back. We gotta sign in by at least six, and I’d rather not walk around in a graveyard in the dead of night. Twilight is the furthest I would go.”

Temari snickers. “ _Twilight_ the vampire movie, oooor…”

“I meant the term for when the sun hits the horizon, dimwit.” Kankuro smacks her in the side, and she returns it in kind with heavy petulance.

“The graveyard closes at seven, Kankuro,” Gaara recalls monotonously.

“Shit, we better get a move on, then.”

Temari leans back in her seat, placing her arms behind her head. “I don’t know. I think I’d like to sneak into a graveyard. Seeing you squirm is always a highlight of my day, Kankuro.”

“Not a chance. We’re meeting Mom at five and that’s the end of the discussion.” The car finally whirs to life after Kankuro’s third attempt, jostling them the slightest inch and then calming down to a vibrating purr. “Alright, one last check—do we have everything?” He looks at Naruto pointedly in the rearview mirror.

“Roger!” Naruto pipes up.

“Aye,” Temari drawls.

Gaara just stares him down.

Kankuro gives a hesitant nod, but gives the gas pedal a soft nudge nonetheless. They move the slightest foot forward.

“Wait, I forgot to turn off the stove!” Naruto squeals.

All three of them groan a simultaneous chorus of “ugh.”

*

When Gaara and his siblings had decided to move out, he wasn’t surprised to see that his father hadn’t cared the slightest iota. It had been a silent affair, boxes shuffled forward with the help of some of his father’s men, and soon enough, everything was ready to be shipped over.

“That was nice of him, huh?” Kankuro had nudged him lightly with his elbow, gesturing with a nod of his head to the helpers his father had recruited for them. “We couldn’t have finished all this by today without some helping hands.”

Gaara listened to his brother drone on and on about the fact that their father could have just left them well alone, but still decided that they were worth helping in the end. But, Gaara hadn’t seen it that way. He figured it was just the fastest and most efficient way to kick them out. In his mind, they weren’t worth having around one more second.

Gaara could remember sitting in the passenger’s seat, leaning his forehead against the coolness of the window as Kankuro drove the haul truck with little to no finesse. His mother’s funeral was underway within a couple of days, but it hadn’t come as a shock to either of his siblings when he decided that he wasn’t going to make it, after all.

“Do you want us to bring her anything for you?” Temari had asked him the day of.

He’d just shook his head.

Come the following days, the next thing he’d heard was that his Uncle Yashamaru wasn’t able to make it either. Apparently, he’d collapsed from overwork and the stress of a deceased sibling. No one had blamed him for it and everyone had sent him get-well-soon gift cards and flowers—the most minimal indications of _I-still-care-for-you_ gestures that Gaara could think about.

Who Gaara _did_ blame was his own father, his flesh and blood—the man that his mother chose to marry out of so many that deserved her and out of so many that she deserved far more. Come the day of the funeral, his father hadn’t even deigned to make an appearance. He did the littlest that was required of him by setting the funeral up, but beyond that he was absent in every sense of the word. He didn’t come to the commemoration, didn’t make a speech, and consoled none of his children.  

At that point, Temari and Kankuro had stopped pulling excuses out of their asses to justify his apathy.

Eventually, though, the three of them got the hang of managing themselves individually as well as acting as one unit. Kankuro had managed to snag themselves a building where they could set up shop at the bottom and then live out their lives upstairs with three separate bedrooms and Temari had been able to sign all the proper papers to legally have a tattoo and piercing shop at said bottom level.

Living around yakuza their whole life, Kankuro was already well-equipped with knowledge about tattoos in the first place, and Gaara quickly took up the art himself and followed in his footsteps. It wouldn’t exactly be what his mother would have wanted Gaara to do with his so-called ‘talents,’ but it was better than wallowing on the dead. Gaara was finally able to come to terms with that.

Like any other person wanting to blank his mind, Gaara drowned himself with tattooing as soon as the business kicked off, wanting to fill his time up with something productive and less maudlin. Having only just started tattooing despite having great finesse with the arts itself, very few people were willing to have him ink their skin. Luckily, a few of his father’s men were willing to let him experiment and as soon as he could get the hang of it, he was able to have a steady influx of customers.

Since the tattoo shop was in a very secluded spot, teetering on the edge of town where it was lawless and neutral, it was very rare to get any customer outside of the yakuza business. Nonetheless, Temari insisted that business was going swell and that if they continued at this rate, they would be able to pay off the rent consistently. “Yakuza,” she’d said, “always have a wide network of acquaintances.”

Despite the people they dealt with on a daily basis, Gaara found life to be quite peaceful most days. People came and went to get whatever they wanted done, and he and siblings didn’t have to bother with the underbelly of society any more than they did under his father’s thumb.

It was still a sore subject—his father, that was. But, with his physical absence, Gaara found it easier to forget he even existed in the first place. He’d always contemplated whether that was a good thing or not and whether his mother would have been happy to know this, but he figured she’d always insist on placing one’s happiness over one’s filial duties, or so he’d liked to convince himself.

*

“This should be it…” Kankuro mumbles to himself, pulling up to a traditional bathhouse. Even from where they parked the car, Gaara could see steam billowing above the building near the back, more than likely where the public bath was.  

“We’re staying at a bathhouse?” Naruto asks, already unbuckling his seat belt and making to get out of the car.

“There’s rooms available next door. The person that runs this place was an old friend of our father’s,” Temari answers, gathering her purse and then waiting for Kankuro to fork over the keys. She never did trust him with anything small.

“Ah, yeah, Chiyo-san said to just go to the front desk. She said we’ll be set for a couple of nights.” Kankuro gets out of the car the same time Gaara does, and they both head to the trunk to get all of the piled suitcases. He bumps against his hip lightly. “Hey, Gaara, remember when Mom took us here for the first time and you almost peed your pants seeing all of the tattooed yakuza?”

Gaara just sighs as Kankuro continues to needle at him with a playful smirk and a nudging elbow. Naruto joins in the fun.

“I couldn’t imagine Gaara ever being scared!”

Temari chuckles beside him, leaning on his shoulder. “Ooooh, yeah. Our boy here was definitely the biggest wimp out of the three of us when we were younger.” She nuzzles at his hair to try and make the point clear and he halfheartedly bats her hand away. “But, I guess Kankuro takes that spot now, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kankuro concedes. “Just help out with the bags, will ya?” He cocks his head towards the untouched suitcases. She and Naruto look at each other, and Gaara can already see the gears turning in their heads in perfect unison.

“I think Naruto and I will go on a stroll,” Temari quips.

“What a great idea, Temari-nee-san!”

Kankuro just ceremoniously shoves the suitcases in his hands into theirs. “Help out or no sake later,” he says with no small hint of warning in his voice.

Temari frowns at him, maneuvering the suitcase to the ground and stomping her foot. “Excuse me, sir, but I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of buying my own alcoholic beverages, thank you very much,” she harrumphs.

Kankuro just shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders and laughing ever so condescendingly. “Oh, but I’m not talking about the sake from the bathhouse. Oh, no, dear sister,” he says with an almost eerie tone. He picks the suitcase back up and then urges Temari to wrap her arms around it again. “I’m talking about Chiyo-san’s very own special sake. Can you tell me again who her favorite nephew was?” Kankuro gives her a victorious grin.

Temari growls. “Fine. But only for sake, ya hear?” At this, she finally begins to lug the suitcase into the lobby.

Naruto, having no one else to slack off with, slumps and resigns himself to helping. Gaara can’t help but laugh at his forlorn figure as they all haul the bags inside.

*

Gaara met Naruto on the most frigid day of winter. He remembers this significantly because he could still feel the chill of the wind on his fingertips, how it nursed the young flame on his cigarette, protecting it from the cold, and how the smoke that filtered down his throat had felt like a slow caress. Business was slow that day, as it tended to be near winter time, and Kankuro had been threatening to close up shop for the day because he’d wanted to bundle up and drink some hot tea.

Not like Gaara would have faulted him for it. He was feeling much the same way.

Of course, Temari had completely disagreed and another argument had ensued, as was their modus operandi, so Gaara felt like he had to step out for just a little while.

He’d taken reprieve near the back, at an alleyway between the tattoo shop and lowdown restaurant at a threat of being closed down soon. Temari had told him once that they weren’t making much of a profit, considering the location. No one liked to be near an area populated by criminals and thugs if they could help it.

That’s why Naruto’s appearance at this very spot, right beside the dumpster with a decidedly tall and muscular yakuza, came as a surprise. Gaara was used to dealings before-- especially when it came to drugs and the like-- taking place near the tattoo shop. It was inevitable, considering the business they ran and who they catered to. But, this had been the first time that he was witnessing a transaction that didn’t have to deal with that at all.

“How much do you charge?” the yakuza had asked Naruto conspiratorially.

“It depends on what you want, honestly,” Naruto whispered.

The yakuza chuckled. “It depends on what you offer. How far can I go?”

“As long as I don’t get murdered in the process, I’m up for anything.” Gaara could see Naruto batting his eyelashes lasciviously, more than likely for the purposes of seduction, but instead he just found it ‘cute.’ The yakuza seemed to find it equally so and chuckled even more. He ruffled Naruto’s hair.

“You’re really something, kid. Unfortunately, I got places ta be t’day. Got a card I can hit ya up with?”

“I got a pen and paper. Sound good?”

“Hell yeah. I’m gonna need more than an hour with ya, so this’ll be more convenient for me.” Naruto proceeded to write him his number and the yakuza tucked it in his pocket once it was forked over. “I think my boys and I will enjoy you.” At this, Gaara hadn’t been able to tell how Naruto reacted to such things because the yakuza had been in the way, but as soon as said yakuza had walked away, Naruto stuck his tongue out in distaste and demonstrated a full-body shudder. “You can fuck your own self,” he saw Naruto mutter under his breath.

Tucking his scarf even tighter around his neck, Naruto kicked at a pebble near his foot before making to leave the alleyway. It was at that point that Naruto had glanced up and found Gaara staring him down, cigarette at a slow burn, and hands concealed in his jacket pockets. Naruto had jolted away from him and Gaara remembers almost bursting out in laughter.

“Uh… how long have you been there?” Naruto asked nervously.

Gaara grunted as he shifted to the other foot. “Long enough. Do you do this often?”

What he meant by that was whether Naruto did his transactions near the tattoo shop specifically. Now that he wasn’t so intrigued by the conversation itself, he was finding it more and more problematic that this could be the spot that yakuza picked prostitutes up from. Not the greatest thing to have for business.

Naruto had just laughed. “I can see the look of worry clear as day on your face. Don’t worry. This is the first time I’ve propositioned someone near here. I live a few blocks down, ya see,” he elucidated. “Didn’t mean to obstruct business, if I am. I just figured this would be where the yakuza would be.”

Gaara nodded his head. “You probably shouldn’t do that anymore.”

At this, Naruto looked affronted and slightly offended. “Not to be completely rude, but don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical considering the job you have? Assuming you’re a tattoo artist, that is.”

Gaara had looked at him curiously then. Naruto picked up on this.

He proceeded to explain. “Well, I’ve seen you walk in and out of this shop frequently. You work here, right?” He cocks his head to the building.

Gaara nodded again. “Yes. But, I didn’t mean to stop doing your work. I meant to stop propositioning yakuza, in particular.”

“And why would you care who I proposition?” Naruto narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t. I just know the kind of men you’re dealing with specifically. It won’t end well.” Gaara remembers hoping that he sounded insistent. Naruto seemed to believe so because he looked contemplative then. He pursed his lips.

“Mm, I don’t think you’re wrong. That guy seemed pretty creepy towards the end. I hope the fake number I gave him is someone equally as creepy. Then again, I don’t exactly have a flourishing market here. At least not yet.” Naruto tapped on his chin in thought. “You work with yakuza all the time. Know anybody nice enough to play with?”

Gaara, for the longest of times, and even to this day, could not fathom how or why he decided he wanted to try Naruto on. Naruto, at the time, wasn’t exceptionally gorgeous—he’d looked pretty malnourished all things considered. He didn’t know whether it was his bright blond hair or his bright blue eyes, but there was just something about him that reminded him of the epitome of “light.” Despite his line of work, Naruto was a pure, significant, and distinct “light,” and Gaara had grown tired of the dark a long time ago. So, he gave it a shot.

“Yakuza,” Gaara had said with no slight hesitation, “always have a wide network of acquaintances.”

Naruto raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I’m one of them.”

Naruto gives him a sly smirk. “Oooh… Well, I have to admit you _are_ a huge step-up from GangBang earlier.”

Gaara smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It definitely is!” Naruto insisted. “So, where do you wanna start?” He cupped Gaara’s cheek and stroked it, pulling their hips closer, and Gaara couldn’t even begin.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

*

After fetching the key for their room and then transporting all their luggage into said room, they finally got themselves put together enough to visit the grave. Temari insisted that they sneak in after hours for the thrill of it, but Kankuro insisted that they needed to treat this seriously and that their mom wouldn’t appreciate rowdiness at a cemetery.

Naruto titters nervously at his side as they meander through the graveyard, sunset at their backs. Gaara pats him on the back encouragingly and Naruto glances up at him. “Sorry. I know that she won’t actually be able to say anything,” he begins. He tugs on Gaara’s arm to indicate that they fall behind Kankuro and Temari a little further. “Like, she’s up in Heaven, y’know? She’d know all about _this_ , y’know?” He indicates at the space between them and Gaara just blinks in confusion.

“Are you talking about how we started out and what we’re still doing?” he ventures to guess.

“ _Yes_ ,” Naruto hisses. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you invited me here as your friend, but… you don’t find this the least bit inappropriate, do you?”

Gaara nods. “Not in the least bit. My mother dealt with many different kinds of people when she was still alive. No matter your job description, she would adore you all the same.” Gaara knew this for a fact.

Naruto sighs, the rigidity in his shoulders slowly easing out of him. “Alright. If you say so.”

His mother’s grave was left desolate and untouched, save for a lone rose. Gaara presumes that it was most likely from his Uncle Yashamaru. He always liked to visit this time of year when the Sun was out. Kankuro chuckles beside him as he lays his chocolates alongside Naruto’s assorted bouquet.

“I didn’t think he’d come around again this year,” Kankuro notes with slight disbelief.

Temari sighs, crouching down and touching the petals to Yashamaru’s rose. “Of course he would. No matter how busy it is, he’d never forget his sister’s birthday. I wonder how he’s doing.”

“You guys never kept in contact with him?” Naruto inquires.

“It wasn’t for lack of trying,” Kankuro informs. “All three of us have tried speaking to him on multiple occasions, but he’s seemed so distant ever since Mom died. She was really important to him.”

Temari hums in agreement and then hoists herself back up to stand. “Yup. Can’t blame him, though. We probably just remind him of Mom.”

Naruto’s frown grows deeper, his brows furrowing together in the middle. “That seems like a silly reason to let family go.”

“Naruto…” Kankuro breathes, with a hint of warning.

“No, I just can’t understand it,” he insists. “I know that it’s painful, but you guys really needed him. How could he abandon you at a time like that if he truly loved you?”

The look in Naruto’s eyes are aflame with an anguish that Gaara is certain he himself never even felt. He doesn’t quite understand why Naruto is so passionate about an issue that doesn’t really pertain to him, but pain itself is something he understands well. Instead of barking back like what Kankuro seems ready to do, Gaara simply places a gentle hand on Naruto’s shoulder in the hopes of calming his ire.

“You can’t help who you can’t stand,” he says, “just as much as you can’t help who you love.”

Naruto’s pain doesn’t seem to dissipate at this, and he looks on in complete puzzlement at Gaara’s seeming apathy.

“I, at least, am grateful that he didn’t turn out like our father did.” At this, Kankuro and Temari bow their heads in silent resignation, and Naruto turns his confused wonderment onto them. It’s evident that he wants to ask more questions, but something seems to click within him, and Naruto lets it go.

Without another word, they all compose themselves for the trip back to the bathhouse, and Naruto doesn’t let go of his hand the entire way there.

*

The sullen atmosphere slowly began to disperse after some good food in their systems and a few ping pong tournaments that Kankuro swears he’s unbeatable at. Temari has won against him in nearly every rematch. She and Naruto then compete against one another, and it almost seems to be an even match, until one of the workers brings Chiyo’s special sake over and the game is all but forgotten.

Kankuro turns some lively music on to fill up the silence that sake often accompanies, and Temari takes some of her share to the open-air bath specifically tailored for their room.

Gaara is thankful for the peacefulness after the all of the rowdiness the day has brought. He alternates between sipping on the sake and puffing on his cigarette as he reclines against a wooden post outlooking a koi pond.

It’s not till the moon’s light is reflecting off of the waters that Naruto takes up residence beside him with a goofy grin and a telltale blush on his face. Gaara can tell he’s just been from the bath from the heat emanating off his skin and the freshness he smells on Naruto’s yukata.

Naruto leans his head on Gaara’s shoulder. “You doing okay?” he asks softly.

Gaara blinks at him, wondering if he seemed odd enough that it would warrant such a question. “I would say so, yes.”

“Mmm, good. It just seemed like you were quieter than usual.”

“That’s because the three of you are much louder.”

Naruto punches him playfully. “Oi! We aren’t loud! We’re just lively!”

Gaara doesn’t really see the difference, but thinks better of commenting on it. He takes another sip.

“You know…” Naruto begins with a longsuffering sigh. “For what you guys have gone through, I think you guys are doing pretty great. I mean, who needs a father anyway?” Naruto flops his hand around nonchalantly, more than likely his attempt of gesturing a father-figure away.

Gaara smiles. “Did Temari tell you about our father?”

Naruto hums lightheartedly. “A little bit. Is that bad?”

Gaara shrugs. “It’s not like it’s a secret.”

“True. But, I still stand by what I said, Gaara.”

“And what was that?”

Naruto eyes him as focused as a drunk person can. “I still think it’s shitty to abandon someone because you’ve lost someone you loved too much.”

Naruto snags the sake bottle near Gaara’s knee and pours some for himself—rather clumsily, at that.

Gaara reaches for it, but Naruto shoves his hand away. “No, no, wait, I’m not finished…” he slurs. He then chugs his portion down, with some of it trickling down from the corners of his mouth and down to the point of his chin. “But… as I was saying,” he continues. “Like, love isn’t something that only selects a certain amount of people. It’s huuuuuuuuuuge.” To make his point even clearer, he gestures with a big sweep of his arms, nearly swatting at Gaara’s face. Gaara takes Naruto’s hand and sets it back down to his lap.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, Naruto.”

Naruto disagrees with a shake of his head and tightens his clutch on Gaara’s hand, bringing it up to his lips. “You’re very loved, Gaara,” he whispers, as if it were the biggest secret in the world. “It may seem like your father and your uncle are assholes… no, wait, scratch that—they definitely are—you’re loved, even if you bear resemblance to people that lived before… or something like that. Temari loves you, Kankuro loves you, and even _this_ good-for-nothing hooker loves you,” he giggles, nuzzling Gaara’s knuckles and hiccupping like a prepubescent child.

Gaara bops him lightly on the head with his other hand. “You’re not a good-for-nothing hooker.”

Naruto beams at him. “But, I _am_ a hooker, y’know?

“Does that mean you can’t love someone?”

Naruto blinks at him. “Hmm, that’s true. So, I guess I love ya after all, Gaara! Believe it!”

Gaara just nuzzles his hair and presses his forehead against Naruto’s.

“I know. I believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god... Is this a thing now? Updating once per year? 
> 
> I'm really sorry it took this long to finally update but as a lot of you already know and have guessed, the ending for Naruto has really shaken me to the core and I began to lose inspiration and then I found it in a different fandom. As evidenced by this chapter, my writing for this story has completely regressed and it's not being written with the same love as it initially was before... I only wish I could get that same motivation back and I'm sorry if the development throughout this chapter has seemed so lackluster. 
> 
> This has been in development for A YEAR. It was just sitting on my dash with absolutely no direction, and to this day, I still feel that it has NONE. However, since it's the new year, I wanted to at least put it out for the readers that have been waiting so patiently, even if the chapter isn't something I'm completely satisfied with. 
> 
> Now on to the bigger updates-- 
> 
> 1\. My previous plan was to introduce each character's backstory steadily, but due to time constraints (I'm in my first year of uni now!!!), and due to lack of motivation, I will be writing Neji, Kiba, and Pein's backstories as separate one-shots after the story has finished. I know that a lot of you were looking forward to them, but in all honesty, their stories have very little to do with the main plot. Gaara's backstory has almost nothing to do with the plotline and can be taken separately, but since I had already started on his, I wanted to at least finish it for consistency's sake (if there ever was one to begin with OTL)
> 
> 2\. The next chapter will finally bring us back to the present with Naruto and Sasuke's story. I've had tons of complaints about the fact that Sasuke and Naruto are awkward with each other, but I mean, the plot has barely inched forward??? All that's happened plotwise is that Sasuke discovered Naruto's existence, he formulates a plan to destroy him, Naruto falls for the ruse, and they go on a date. That's it. No plot progression yet whatsoever and that's due to the backstories of different characters taking up space. It's not to say that I HATE my other characters, but there definitely needs to be room for other things in order to move us along. HOWEVER, the one thing that should be noticed is that everyone LOVES Naruto. Don't overlook this. It has major plot points later on!!!
> 
> 3\. In conclusion, yes, this story does have an ending. I finally figured out what I wanted to do with it. Although the updates are hellah sporadic, it is one of my greatest wishes to actually be able to finish it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has believed in me far more than I have ever believed in myself and I hope to see you all on the flip side once again!!! Happy New Year :D


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